Another Man's Trash Or, The Adventures of Morgan
by GialiaSpirtdancer
Summary: COMPLETEDWhat happens when Morgan finds a Mutant in her garbage? KurtOC plus a host of other chars. First installment in a series.
1. Default Chapter

This is my first fan fic so be gentle. Rating based upon future chapters.  
  
DISCLAIMER:: I do not own Nightcrawler, the X-Men, or make any claim to. This Fic is simply to help me improve my writing skills, and I seek no profit other than having a good time. Morgan, however, is my character, and I WILL lay claim to her.  
  
Please review! I hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.  
  
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It was the end of August and abysmally hot. Even at night the air was heavy, thick, like walking through a deep fryer. It was well past midnight, around three o'clock in the morning, and the world was dead quiet. I could hear a few cars going by on the main road not far from my little apartment, but it was a distant sound. A white noise that brought just a little bit of comfort.  
  
My air conditioning had gone out, and I'd called Maintenance about it three days ago. They had yet to fix it. Inside it was like an oven, and no amount of fans could circulate the dead stuffy. It was far too hot to sleep, so I sat on the front deck of my apartment with a can of ice cold coke from the fridge on the table next to me. It was beaded with moisture, and I took those cold droplets and ran them across my forehead in a futile attempt to cool down.  
  
There was a pack of cigarettes next to the coke, and I took one from the pack. For a long moment, I just held it in my hand, between my index and middle finger. Then, I picked up the zippo and ex boyfriend gave me and lit it. It was never too hot to smoke. I inhaled deeply, and watched the bluish gray smoke curl up into the night.  
  
My building was on a cul de sac, though the parking lot was large and square, not round as you would expect. There were no buildings across from mine, nor on the end. Instead, the buildings lined the road leading into my little square like soldiers. The parking lot was nearly empty, and from what I could see of the other buildings, all the lights were out. There was a stray cat nosing around one of the green dumpsters in the lot. Abruptly, it crouched, staring off down the road before scampering into the bushes that framed the dumpsters.  
  
I heard a vehicle approaching, and leaned back into the shadows more, concealing the cherry red glow of my lit cigarette with my hand. A large black cargo van pulled into the lot. It was shiny-new, and had no license plates. Intrigued, I watched intently as it turned around, and then backed up to one of the dumpster. Odd, that someone would be dumping off garbage this late at night.  
  
A large man in a brown trench coat exited the driver's side. He was wearing a baseball cap, and had it pulled down low over his face. He left the door open, the engine running, and went to the back of the van. With a relative amount of silence, he maneuvered one of the plastic lids on the dumpster open, and then turned back to the van.  
  
A smaller man had joined him, dressed in a pair of jeans and a dark T- shirt. He was the one to open the back doors of the van, and together they unloaded their cargo. It looked like a fairly long bundle of fabric. They tossed it into the dumpster, and I could hear garbage crunching under the weight of it. Then, the small man closed the cargo doors, and they both got into the van and drove away.  
  
I waited for about ten minutes before my curiosity got the better of me. There was a flashlight in my kitchen drawer, and I retrieved it. Then, I went back outside and made sure the van was gone before padding barefoot out into the lot and to the dumpster.  
  
One thing I'll say about my complex, they really like to make sure you have enough room for your trash. The dumpster was large, nearly taller than me. It had two large black plastic lids on top, and the sides had sliding doors. I couldn't see in through the top, so I decided to go in through the side. I squeezed in between the bushes, and pulled the door back. It moved easily which surprised me. I had expected it to be difficult, but it didn't so much as squeak as I opened it.  
  
I fumbled with the flashlight for a moment, smacking it hard to get the light to come on when the switch didn't work. It sputtered for a moment before shining a beam of light. I peered inside the dumpster, and encountered a pair of bright green eyes. I gasped and jerked back, heart pounding.  
  
The cat hissed at me, then leapt from where it had been sitting on the fabric bundle up through the still open top before hissing again and dashing off into the night. I took a few deep breaths to help calm my nerves before shining the light back into the bin.  
  
Black and white plastic bags, glass bottles, and old pizza boxes littered the inside of the dumpster. It stank to high heaven, and the walls were covered with all sorts of things I'd rather not think about. The bundle of fabric lay lengthwise, one end of it laying heavily against the wall. It appeared to bed sheets, white with little flowers all over them, and a strange, dark red stain that overlaid the flowers.  
  
The bundle shifted, and groaned.  
  
I bit off a scream as I jumped back, startled, tangling myself in the bushes and dropping the flashlight, which of course rolled under the dumpster. I realized with horror that the red pattern on the sheets was blood, that there was a person wrapped up in them.  
  
Now logically, I knew I should have called the police. But logic was not in control at that moment. Instinct was. I left the flashlight where it was, and leaned into the dumpster. I grasped the sheets and pulled, edging him a bit toward the entrance. I thought I could tell which way was up and which was down. It was his head that was against the wall. I was already sweating, and the effort to get him out soon had me panting. He'd stopped moving, in fact hadn't made a sound. I could feel the ragged rythym of his chest rising and falling. He was still alive.  
  
I had the lower half of him out, from the way his waist was bending, he had to be laying on his back. I was working on getting the rest of him out when the sheets slipped open, and a part of him popped out at me.  
  
I stared at the hand for a minute in surprise. It was not a normal, human hand. The leather glove that covered it had to be a custom job, for it had two rather thick fingers, and an equally large thumb. The first thing that occurred to me, was that there was no way I could take this person to the hospital.  
  
There was also no way I could call the cops. They take one look at him, and leave him to die. That left only one choice. While it wasn't ideal, it was going to have to do. I knew someone, a mutant, who might be able to help this one back to health. The three of us shared something in common. We were all mutants.  
  
I wrestled him mostly out of the bin, then pulled him over my shoulder in a fireman's carry. He was heavy, dense with muscles, and I was willing to bet he was taller than me too. I staggered across the parking lot, praying hard that there were no early risers about. The stairs were an absolute nightmare, my thighs burning as I traversed them.  
  
I dropped more than lowered him onto my living room floor, gasping for breath, every muscle in my body burning from exertion. My shoulder and arms were covered with something sticky, and I was not surprised to see I had his blood all over me. I crawled over to the phone, and took a moment to catch my breath before hitting the speed dial.  
  
"'Lo?" a sleepy male voice answered.  
  
"Ryan." I gasped. "How fast can you get over here?"  
  
It must have been my tone, because he was sounding instantly alert. "What's going on? Are you hurt?"  
  
"No, but someone else is, badly. He's not the hospital type." I looked at the prone mutant. "He may be dying, Ryan."  
  
"Give me five minutes. I'll be right over." There was a click on the other end of the phone. I hung up the receiver, then went to my linen closet to fetch towels. I don't know why, but I thought they were something we could use. Then I went into the kitchen and put a pot of water on the stove to boil, before grabbing a pair of scissors and heading out into the living room.  
  
I was busy cutting the sheets away from the mutants body when Ryan came in. He was panting, and still wearing only his pajama bottoms, though I was willing to bet he'd been naked when I called. With wide eyes, he stared at the mutant on the floor.  
  
"You weren't kidding." He panted, and closed the door, locking it behind him.  
  
"And you ran here." I said. He lived in the same complex in a different building. "Barefoot."  
  
As I spoke he came over to the mutant, and knelt next to him. "He's in bad shape," he said softly. Then, he place his right hand, palm down, on the mutants forehead and closed his eyes. "Broken ribs." He said softly. "Concussion. Numerous lacerations and contusions." Ryan's gift was the human body. Sounds funny, but he could lay his hand on a person, and find whatever was broken. Then fix it. Diseases were different. But if it was broken, punctured, perferated, skinned, torn, bruised or any other damage type thing, it wouldn't last long.  
  
"Where's all this blood coming from?" I asked.  
  
He frowned. "His back, I think. It's sort of muddled. Let's turn him over." His eyes opened, and he removed his hand from the mutant's forehead. Carefully, we rolled him over to see where the blood loss was coming from.  
  
It took me a minute to realize what I was looking at. At first, I thought that he was wearing a weird, textured jacket. But then I noticed that the jacket was oozing all sorts of things; red, yellow, and clear fuilds. It wasn't cloth, but flesh I was looking at.  
  
His back looked like ground meat. I could see bits of white shining down the center, that I knew instantly was his spine. It was wet, slick looking. The smell of it hit my nostrils, and I gagged. It was grotesque, and I felt my stomach heave. I swallowed hard, lest I lose what little was in my stomach. I shifted my eyes lower down his body, and was surprised to see that he had a tail. It was long, blue, and had a spaded end. I focused on that oddity instead in an effort to get my stomach to calm down.  
  
"My god, where did you find him?" he asked me softly.  
  
"He was dumped." I said.  
  
Ryan shook his head. "I can't heal this. Not by myself. There's too much here. I need Ryanne here to draw off of." He said. The only problem was that his twin sister was in Las Vegas, for a medical conference.  
  
"Why?" I asked.  
  
"Because healing this by myself might kill me." Ryan said. "He's hurt bad, Morgan. I'd drain myself down to the last bit, I'd exhaust myself completely healing him. It's too much." That was the bard part of Ryan's gift. The energy needed usually drained him, unless he had his sister nearby. She was sort of a living battery, he could tap into her and draw as much as he needed, and it had no affect whatsoever on either of them. Well, other than Ryan showing the injuries for a short time. It was like he took them into himself, and then his body healed them.  
  
"Can't you just heal him a bit at a time?" I asked.  
  
Ryan shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. Once I start, I'm committed. I have to finish. I can't stop myself."  
  
"Well, what if you had someone else to tap into besides Ryanne?" I was not going to let this guy die on my living room floor.  
  
He paused. "I don't know. I've never done it before." He bit his lip thoughtfully. "I don't know why I couldn't though. When Anne and I do it, I'm not touching her gift. Just her."  
  
"Then use me." I said, without hesitation.  
  
"Morry-"  
  
"I'm serious. I'm not going to let him die, Ry. Either you tap me, or I call the EMT's. Either way, he's not dying tonight."  
  
Ryan held his hand out to me. "Give me your hand."  
  
I slipped my hand into his, and had a sudden memory of him holding my hand like this once before, only that time we were both sixteen, and he was coaxing me into bed with him. I shook the memory off, now was not the time to reminisce about how I'd lost my virginity. His hand felt the same as it had then, hot, sweaty, and shaking slightly.  
  
Once more his eyes slid closed, and I felt my skin prickle up. I felt warm, buzzed, I wanted to get up and move around. I shifted a bit.  
  
"Be still." He said. "I'm trying-ah." He said. I felt the oddest sensation, like something internally had clicked. Gently, he put his hand on an uninjured spot on the mutant's shoulder.  
  
There was nothing but pain.  
  
Pain, as if someone would wrench my arms out of the sockets. My chest burned. I gasped for air, and it felt like knives digging into my lungs. My back was the worst. It felt like someone had poured acid down my back. I could feel the skin burning away, feel little bits of flesh sizzle apart and slide off of my body. I couldn't breath, I felt like was drowning, I was dying, like my heart would explode.  
  
Just as soon as it began it was over. I was sprawled on the carpet, gasping, body twitching. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I felt weak, as if I'd just run a marathon. Someone was muttering "oh god, oh god, oh god," and I realized it was me. I snapped my mouth shut, then turned my head, trying to sit up. My body wouldn't respond right, so I ended up flopping onto my side.  
  
Ryan was laying on the other side of the mutant, and there were deep bruises covering his face. His chest was rising and falling shallowly. As I watched, the bruises began to fade away, and his breathing to slow. "Ryan.."  
  
"Wow." He said. I breathed an inward sigh of relief. For a moment, I thought he might be worse off than I was. He sat up, grinning, full of more energy than I thought he should have. His eyes came to me, and widened a bit. Immediately he was at my side, helping me to sit up, getting me off the floor. "Move around," he said. "Shake things out. Don't just sit there." He half carried me to the sofa.  
  
Ensconced in the couch, I wiggled my fingers and toes, my legs, my arms, and sure enough the more I moved the better I felt. "I think," he said, "that I got into your Power. I should be bone tired by now, but I'm not."  
  
I stared at him. "How?" I asked. My Power, my Gift, was illusion. It had nothing at all to do with healing, or anything of the sort. I could cover anything with an illusion, or conjure them out of thin air. I knew it wasn't manipulating the mind, because if you were to walk through my illusion, you'd carry little bits of it with you, like wisps of paint that stick to your clothing. I could lay them down so close to flesh, that the bits don't come off at all.  
  
That's how I managed to appear so human looking, as a matter of fact.  
  
"I don't know." Ryan said, bringing me back into focus. "But I did. Look at our patient."  
  
I glanced at the mutant laying on my floor, and was surprised to see that his back was not only healed, there wasn't so much as a scar. It too was covered in a fine blue fur.  
  
I took the time to really look at him. His hair was bluish black and curly, his ears pointed. The tail was long, a bit longer than his legs, and laid on the floor limply. His feet were strange, with two long toes, and a protruding heal, and instead of five fingers, he had two very fat ones, with an equally large opposable thumb. I was willing to bet from face, back and tail that every inch of him was covered in that fine blue fur. He was whole and healed, sleeping now from the energy it took to heal.  
  
I was burning with curiosity. Who was he? What happened? And why?  
  
I had to wait till he woke for the answers. 


	2. Chapter 2

It took us the better part of an hour to get him cleaned up and into my bed. We stripped off the tattered remains of the leather clothing he'd been wearing and tossed most of it. The boots he'd been wearing were still in relatively good shape. Most of the towels I'd gotten from the linen closet were in a pile off to the side, and we'd gone through three bowls of water getting all the blood and slime off of him. He'd still need to take a shower when he woke up. One thing confirmed, he was indeed furry all over.  
  
Ryan had to help me carry him to the bedroom, I was just too worn out from carrying him up to my apartment, and then the healing. I even attempted to go back into the living room to scrub the blood out of my beige carpet, but Ryan had forbidden it. He'd sent me to the couch, and now I watched blearily as he scrubbed at my carpet with a bristle brush and a bucket of suds.  
  
I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke it was to the sound of snoring. Ryan was sprawled out in my recliner, and the carpet brush he'd been using was on the floor underneath his hand. I surmised that he'd probably sat down to take a break, and fallen asleep himself.  
  
The stain on the carpet was completely gone, as were the towels. I checked the dryer, and sure enough there they were. They too were unstained. I reminded myself to ask how he got the blood out. I myself was still wearing the bloody clothing from the previous night, and I was in desperate need of a shower. I felt like I was coated in about five different layers of grime, and I had blood under my fingernails.  
  
First things first. I went into my bedroom to check on our patient. The sunlight was streaming in from the blinds, which were open just a crack. They made a long trail across my bedroom, up along the side of the bed, and across it. My bedroom wasn't much. Just the bed, two dressers, a closet, and lots of clothes everywhere. My nightstand was cluttered with books.  
  
The mutant was sleeping soundly, one arm flung up over his head, the other resting on his stomach. His head was turned towards his arm, the curls of his hair tousled carelessly, some still matted with blood. The sheet had worked it's way down his body, exposing a lean expanse of washboard abs. His tail was hanging over the edge of the bed, tip moving slight from side to side in his sleep. One leg was cocked, knee out, foot tucked under the other knee.  
  
I studied him for a moment. I was right. He was densely muscled, definitely an athlete's build. I was willing to bet this guy spent a lot of time in the gym. Long arms, long legs, very long tail. I took a few steps closer to examine his face. Rather high cheek bones, a long nose, strong chin and jaw. If it wasn't for the blue fur I could easily see how the average woman would find him handsome. Well, minus the tail and the odd hands and feet too.  
  
I scrubbed a hand through my dark hair, and headed to the dresser. Only bad thing about this apartment was the bathroom was through the bedroom. It was convenient for when I was alone, but not very nice when I had company. I retrieved a clean pair of undies, as well as a bra, tank and a pair of old cut off shorts, then headed into the bathroom.  
  
The hot water was beginning to run cold when I finally stepped out of the shower. The water had run pink for awhile before I had managed to scrub all the blood out of my skin, and I was feeling much more alert. I dried myself off, wrapping my hair up in a towel before dressing. I surveyed myself in the mirror for a moment.  
  
Pale skin, dark brown eyes, dark brown hair. There was a smattering of freckles across my nose, which I thought was a nice touch. My face was round, with high cheekbones, and my nose was slightly upturned. Full lips, long lashes, and a good smile. I'd gone out of my way to make myself thoroughly average looking, though really, the bone structure was all mine.  
  
I was far from athletic in build. There was a definite generosity to my curves that had little do with exersize and more to do with sitting in front of my computer. Not fat, but soft. Just for a moment, I let the illusion go, and surveyed myself in reality. My skin gleamed white, so bright it was almost glowing. I blinked, and the white and brown vanished from eyes, leaving only a deep, deep purple. I removed the towel from my hair, and let the black hair fall free. It cascaded halfway down my back in soft, wet curls, the color dulled slightly by the water. But I knew that when it was dry, my hair had highlights that shone in all sorts of different colors. The freckles vanished, but everything else remained the same. For a moment, I felt guilty. I had a much easier time of passing for human than the man in my bed did, yet most of my life I've felt horrible, like some sort of freak because I looked so different. My childhood had been nightmarish because of it, and when my gift had first manifested itself, I'd slapped the illusion on me so fast it had made my mother's eyes bug out.  
  
I shrugged the illusion back into place, then headed out of the bathroom. There were still things I could doing, like feeding my hungry tummy, or waking up Ryan. I opened the bathroom door, and glanced in the direction of the bed.  
  
I had only a moment to register that the mutant wasn't there when I felt a hand grab my right arm by the wrist. He turned it and wrenched it painfully behind my back at the same time his hand came over my mouth. Some thin and snakelike claimed my left hand, pulling it behind me as well. There was a surprising amount of strength in his tail, it held me firmly, but not tight enough to cut off the circulation to my hand.  
  
"Wer sind Sie? Wo bin ich?" he hissed softly into my ear, and I shivered. Just my luck! He didn't speak English! I shook my head frantically, hoping he would get the message. For a moment, he didn't move, then he said "Who are you? Where am I?" He must of realized how foolish he was being, considering I couldn't answer any questions with his hand over my mouth. "I'm going to move my hand, please don't scream. I won't hurt you." He had a light accent that any other time I would have found pleasant. I nodded to indicate my willingness to cooperate.  
  
Slowly he pulled his hand away. I took a moment for a deep breath before I answer him. "My name is Morgan. Your in my apartment. I found you dying, and brought you here. I'm not going to hurt you either." I finished.  
  
I felt his grip loosen, and abruptly, he wavered, knees buckling. He regained his footing, but not before I'd managed to slip out of his arms. I immediately turned to face him. The mutant had wrapped the flat sheet around his waist as if it were some sort of weird kilt. He looked tired, ragged, his head drooping as he leaned heavily against the wall. His legs went again, and this time I was in position to catch him. I slid under his arm, pulling it over my shoulders, and helped him to the bed.  
  
"You shouldn't be up yet." Ryan said from the doorway. He rubbed his eyes blearily. "Healing takes a lot out of the body. You need rest, and food, and no strenuous activity for a few days."  
  
The mutant sat on the edge of the bed, and I could feel his body shaking. "What happened?" he asked. There was an edge of fear in his voice. I was starting to get the impression he didn't like being helpless.  
  
"I found you in a dumpster. Someone dumped you there. You were dying." I said softly. I crouched down in front of him, I didn't want to loom and make him feel threatened. "I called my friend Ryan. He is, like, you a mutant. His gift is Healing. He healed you the best he could. We cleaned you up, and put you in my bed."  
  
He nodded slowly. "How long have I been here?" he asked.  
  
"Not long. Just since last night." Ryan said. "How do you feel?"  
  
"Tired." He said. "And hungry." His stomach gave a loud gurgle, and I chuckled. "Pardon me." He said softly.  
  
"No, don't worry about it. I'm starving too." I said. "What is your name?"  
  
"Kurt." He said softly. "Kurt-" he paused, and his brow furrowed. "That's strange. I can not seem to remember my last name.."  
  
I glanced at Ryan, and he shrugged. "It could be a side effect from the healing." He said softly.  
  
"Well Kurt," I said. "Do you remember what happened to you?"  
  
He frowned, crinkling his forehead even more. "Nein. No I can remember nothing. Why can't I remember?"  
  
"Could be any number of reason. The healing, the amount of blood lost," Ryan suggest. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. I'm sure your memory will come in time."  
  
I wasn't so sure. "Can you remember anything?"  
  
"I remember," he said softly, "I remember my home. I remember Germany. But I do not remember where I live now." He looked at me, and I gasped. His eyes were a warm golden yellow, there were no whites to speak of. They were so like mine it caught me off guard. He must have mistaken my gasp for something else, because he abruptly looked away. "I remember conversations that I have had," he said softly, and I focused on his lips. His canines were slightly elongated. I put everything together, and realized something startling. If he were red, he could have passed for a classic version of a demon. I felt another pang of intense guilt over my self-pity. "I can remember them as if they happened yesterday! But I do not remember to whom I was speaking, or where they took place."  
  
"Partial amnesia then." Ryan said. "You did suffer head trauma. Rest. Eat. It will come back." He said.  
  
Kurt nodded morosely. I waited for Ryan to leave the room, before I said. "It must be hard for you."  
  
"Was?" he asked, and I assumed he meant what.  
  
"Not remembering." I said. I rose slowly, hoping to catch his eyes. I did, and his eyes flickered to mine. I met them unflinching. "I do not know if I'd be able to handle it." I said. "I would probably be hysterical by now."  
  
He shrugged. "It's not helpful." He said it as if it answered everything.  
  
We were silent for a moment, and then he asked "Do you think I could borrow your shower?"  
  
I laughed, and nodded. "That's not a problem. But you may want to wait for the hot water to heat up a bit more. And it would probably be wiser for you to take a bath."  
  
"I don't relish the idea of sitting in the scum that's sure to wash off of me." He said, and I nodded.  
  
"Get some sleep." I said. "I'll wake you when it's time to eat. Then we'll see how you are feeling."  
  
Kurt sighed, and shifted, laying on his side in my bed. His tailed twitched, then curled itself around his leg. "I can't begin to thank you enough for everything that you have done." He said softly. "Not many would take in such a monster-"  
  
"You are not a monster." I said, interrupting him. "You are different. That's all. I am different. Ryan is different too." I sighed. "Get some sleep Kurt. We can talk more later."  
  
I left him then, and went into my living room. Ryan had put away the cleaning supplies, and was moving around in the kitchen. I smelled coffee, and my mouth watered. Despite the sweltering heat, I still need a good cuppa to wake me up.  
  
Ryan was busy behind the stove. He was still wearing only his pajama bottoms, and his blond hair was thoroughly tousled from sleeping in my recliner. He was boy-next-door good looking, and had a smile that could charm the pants off of just about any girl. It's what had made him a lousy boyfriend, because he'd charmed the pants off of many a girl while we were together. We definitely made better friends, then we had lovers.  
  
"What are you making?" I asked, the delicious smells coming from his direction making my tummy grumble. Cooking was one of his hidden passions. He could come into my incredibly bare larder, and make a feast from what little I had here.  
  
"It's a surprise." He said. "Get your coffee and get out of the kitchen."  
  
"It's my kitchen!" I argued.  
  
"Out!" he said, and swatted me with a spatula. I laughed, and let him chase me out of the kitchen. I went instead back into the living room, and to the large Amoir that was standing in a corner. I opened the doors, and pulled a nearby winged back chair directly in front of it.  
  
My livelihood was contained in this cabinet. A nineteen inch flat screen computer monitor sat on a desktop that was littered with papers, pens, post its and paperclips. It was a Liquid Crystal Display, or LCD, and it was one of my prize possessions. In a large bay to the left of my legs was my computer itself, a laptop model that was docked into a larger piece of equipment that let me use it as if it were not a portable model. I booted it up and sipped my coffee. "C'mon baby. Momma's gotta earn her paycheck." I said softly.  
  
The first thing I did was check my e-mail. There were a few notes for legitimate projects I was working on, and an e-mail from someone I didn't recognize. The subject, however, was "Green cheese on mars lander?"  
  
I opened it without hesitation. It was a simple missive that gave explicit details about what the sender wanted me to do, as well as a bank account number. I recognized the number, it's one that a user had sent to me in the past. Repeat business was a good thing. I verified the account and that the funds were there. After the job, I'd get the password.  
  
It only took me a half an hour to hack the file he'd requested, and steal the information he required. I sent it off to him encrypted, and about fifteen minutes later got the password, along with another email from a hotmail account.  
  
The subject read "help me!"  
  
Curious, I opened it up.  
  
"Hello. I don't know who you are, but I got your e-mail address from a friend. My name is molly. My big sister Heather is special. She's so special, she scares people! My daddy says not be scared though, cause that's just how she is, and it doesn't make her anything other than Heather. My mommy disagrees though. She asked a man over the other night, and I heard them talking. I see on the news all the time about mutant registration, and how it's supposed to be this good thing, but I'm not so sure. Mommy registered Heather though, and now I'm scared! Please, please help my sister! Can you take her name off the records? Please?"  
  
It was signed 'Molly.' I didn't even have to think about it. Ten minutes later I found myself up to my ears in the Mutant Registry, trying to avoid their detectors and snares. I'd gone through so many firewalls I'd lost count, and was extremely grateful that my signal was being bounced around between fifteen different satellites, nine countries, and about 30 states. After a forty five minute struggle, I found the file containing Heather's information, and deleted it. I wiped it from the registry as if it never existed.  
  
I sent an email back to Molly. It was one simple word. "Done."  
  
"Your good deed for the day?" Ryan asked. He leaned over me, and waved a forkful of potatoes in my face. "Come, eat, be merry." He said. My stomach grumbled loudly, and I made a grab for the fork. "Nope. Go wake up our guest first. Then you can eat."  
  
"Our guest?" I chuckled. "Since when do you live here?" I pushed my chair back, and went into the bedroom.  
  
Kurt was sleeping still. I sat on the edge of the bed, and he didn't stir a bit. My fingers twitched, and I had a sudden urge to run my hands down the fur on his chest. I even let my hand start drifting in that direction before I realized what I as doing. I turned the motion into a gentle touch on his shoulder.  
  
His hand came up, and I found myself felt on my stomach on the floor, his weight pressing down on me. As fast as he'd done it, he was gone. "Mein Gott!" he exclaimed. "Morgan! I am so sorry! Reflex-" he said.  
  
I laid on the floor for a moment, then rolled onto my back. He was all the way on the other side of the bed, fumbling the sheet around his waist. There was a dark flush to his skin, and I realized he was blushing. "Reflex?" I asked. I wasn't mad. No, why would I have been? It did answer something though. Kurt was used to living on his guard. I should have known that, and known to keep my distance. "Don't apologize. I shouldn't have done that. I just wanted to tell you that dinner's ready."  
  
His stomach grumbled so loudly I heard it from where I was. "Dinner?" he grinned, and I laughed. "I trust that bed sheet is appropriate attire?"  
  
I laughed again. "It's come as you are." I said. "Dinner, then we can get you a shower, how's that sound?"  
  
"Wunderbar!" He exclaimed. He came around to my side of the bed, and he seemed to be doing even better than earlier. "lead on Fräulein." He said. "And I shall follow." 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:: Don't own Kurt, don't claim to, don't sue me. :D  
  
Jaganashi:: Thank you! I've penned a personal response to your review, but it really meant a lot to me! Check your e-mail!  
  
Goddesschild:: If I told you who's corn flakes he so crudely violated, it wouldn't be a mystery, would it? Thanks for the review!  
  
Kalika55:: I'm not sure how much more of Ryan we'll be seeing, but he may pop up again a time or two! Maybe his twin Ryanne will come home early.. who knows?  
  
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Ryan had laid out a feast for us, which was rather surprising. Here I thought my cupboard was bare, but he'd managed to cobble together a full meal consisting of roast beef, small potatoes, peas with little pearl onions, salad, and bread. Not that pre sliced stuff but actual, baked from scratch bread.  
  
I slipped into the chair with a look of wonder on my face. "Wow." I said. "I had no idea I had all of this."  
  
"You didn't." Ryan said. "I slipped out while you were ha-" he stopped, and glanced at Kurt. "While you were working. It's from my place."  
  
The delicious smells seemed connected directly to my stomach, and I attacked the food with a relish. I was surprised when Kurt folded his hands together and said a brief prayer before tucking in himself. I raised an eyebrow at him. "I wouldn't have thought you to be the religious type." I said conversationally.  
  
"Why? Just because I am a mutant, I should not have faith?" He asked. He brought a forkful of roast beef to his mouth and ate it with relish.  
  
"No." I said. "No, I just was thinking it would be hard for you to attend services. Do you mind if I ask what faith you are?"  
  
"Ah well, I did attend services when I was young. But I watched from the rafters, in the shadows. Not the pews." He said. He chewed on a bit of potato. "I am catholic."  
  
I couldn't help myself. I laughed. This time it was he who raised an eyebrow at me. "Is that funny?"  
  
"Only to her." Ryan said, and made a face. "Her ex boyfriend was catholic. He kept trying to convert her from her heathen ways."  
  
"Heathen?"  
  
I shrugged. "I'm pagan." I said.  
  
"Ah." Kurt said, and smiled. "Well, that is nothing. One tree, many roots. I have a friend who follows a Goddess," he paused, "at least, I think I do. It seems familiar."  
  
That brought the conversation around to the things that he could remember, and the things that he could not. I was surprised to learn that he was raised in a circus, but not in the freak show. No, he'd been a star acrobat, a trapeze artist. I had no trouble believing he was perfectly capable of it. The more we spoke, the more I liked him. He was well spoken, affable, charming, and really rather funny. It didn't take long for me to feel like was chatting with an old friend, and when we finally pushed ourselves back from the table, the atmosphere in the apartment had relaxed considerably.  
  
"Well, it should be safe enough for you to shower now Kurt." I said. "Please, feel free to use it." I glanced from him, to Ryan, comparing them size wise. "And if Ryan is feeling generous, I'm sure she has some clothing you can borrow."  
  
"Absolutely." Ryan said. "I'll drop them off. I've got to work tonight, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you in Morry's hands. Don't worry, she's a great nurse. Though her bedside manner is horrible." He grinned. "Ah. I cooked. You clean up Morry!"  
  
I sighed theatrically. "ugh. Cleaning. Oh, will no one save me from that dreaded beast!" I took my napkin and threw it at him. "You know my rules. You cook, I clean." I said.  
  
Kurt had slipped away, and I heard water running in my bathroom. "You sure you'll be okay?" Ryan asked me. "He seems nice enough, but it could be just an act-the amnesia could be an act."  
  
It would be a lie to say that hadn't already occurred to me, but I shrugged. "I'm a big girl Ryan. I'll be fine." I said. I rose and began to clear away the dishes. "I'm sure that my gift can keep him confused enough to keep me safe."  
  
For a long moment he simply looked at me, and then he leaned and kissed me softly, his lips brushing against mine lightly. I stiffened in surprise, and he chuckled. "Be careful." Was all he said. He left, and returned a few moments later with a few articles of clothing he thought Kurt might need., then went to work.  
  
I finished clearing away the supper dishes, loading up the dishwasher and preparing to run it when Kurt got out of the shower. Then, I took the clothes Ryan had left for him into the bedroom and laid them out on the bed. I included a pair of scissors, mainly because it didn't seem that the jeans Ryan had left had a hole for a tail. I hoped he didn't mind that we were going to have mutilate those.  
  
I went back into the living room, and collapsed onto the couch, grabbing the remote and turning it back on.  
  
"-on the scene." The words blared, and I turned the volume down, wincing. A lady reporter with a bad dye job was standing in front of a police car. Beyond the car, were several others, as well as that tell-tale yellow tape, and a narrow, dark alleyway. In the background, I made out a rather large man in a brown trench coat despite the sweltering heat. He was wearing a battered dark brown fedora and was smoking a rather large cigar, and you could see little bits of red hair peeking out from under the hat. I grinned suddenly. My uncle Pat couldn't have looked like less of a cliché if he tried!  
  
The news switched over, so I had no idea what the current report was about. Curious, I picked up the phone and dialed my uncle's cell phone number. He was a Detective, and it occurred to me that if anyone could solve the mystery of Kurt, it would be him.  
  
It only rang once.  
  
"Flannigan." A worn tenor answered.  
  
"Uncle Pat!" I said, in my best little girl voice, and I heard him laugh.  
  
"Morgan! Well well, to what do I owe this honor?" He said.  
  
"Caught the tail end of the news and saw you on the boob tube." I said. "What's up."  
  
"Hang on." He said. "Let me get somewhere I can talk." I heard the tone of the voices in the background change, and then a loud click and the sound was cut off. "In the car." He said.  
  
"I figured. What's up?"  
  
I heard him shift. "Well, near as I can figure. It's another victim of that serial killer we've got running around."  
  
I felt my blood run cold. "I thought that the murders weren't connected." I said softly.  
  
"They are. And they've been getting progressively worse. We've managed to keep most of the details from the press, thankfully."  
  
"How bad is it?" I asked.  
  
"Nine vic's so far." He said. "Ten, if we can find the body from this one. Whoever this guy is, he's decided to add to the game by hiding the body. There's a shit load of blood everywhere, but no sign of a corpse."  
  
I paused. "I think I may have an answer for that." I said. "Can you come by my place tonight?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Just, please Unc, come by. I'll show you what I mean when you get here." I said.  
  
"Mor, it's near 9 p.m. already.." he said.  
  
"Come by. I'll be up. You know I will."  
  
He sighed. "I'll be there as soon as I can." I heard a click, and chuckled to myself. He never was one for good-byes.  
  
"Who was that?"  
  
I turned to see Kurt standing in the doorway. He was wearing a pair of Ryan's jeans, and they hung low on his hips. Rubbing a white towel across his still wet hair, he stood easily, hips cocked slightly to one side. His tail was swishing gently back and forth behind him. I had a sudden image of him as a sort of demonic poster boy for Calvin Kline or Ambercrombie and Fitch, he had that kind of look.  
  
"My uncle." I said. I hung up the phone. "He's a cop. A detective. I thought he might be able to help you."  
  
He gave me a dubious look. "Ja, well how does he feel about mutants?"  
  
"Fine I hope. I come from a whole litter of them, so he really shouldn't have any room to complain." I said.  
  
"You have a large family?" he asked. He squatted down nearby, as if getting ready to listen to a story.  
  
"I do. Well, I come from a rather large, rather traditional irish family." I smiled.  
  
"Are they catholic?" he asked, and I laughed.  
  
"Oh yes. Well, my mother is. Hence the enormously large brood of children. I think after five, dad just gave up trying to talk her into getting on the pill."  
  
"Five?" He asked, his golden yes wide and round.  
  
"That's just the ones older than me." I said, grinning. "I was number six. Then there's five more after me."  
  
"Eleven!" Kurt gaped at me in amazement. "Such a large family!"  
  
"I have four sisters, and seven brothers." I said. "Nine of us are mutants, and three of us are not. My father is also a mutant, as is our grandfather."  
  
"Your mother?" he asked.  
  
"Human."  
  
"So you are third generation!" Kurt said. "I didn't think that mutants went back that far. What kind of abilities do your family have?" he asked, then blushed. "I am sorry, that was inappropriate."  
  
"Oh no, not at all." I said. "Your curious, and there is nothing wrong with that." I thought for a moment.  
  
"They are all remarkably similar. All of them have something to do with appearance in some way. Lets see. I'm a true illusionist." I said, "I can spin images from thin air. Only problem is once you pass through my image, it comes apart, like smoke." I conjured a small red ball and it floated over my hand. It looked completely textured, real, as if I could bounce it off the walls. But then I passed my finger through it, and my finger left a trail of curling smoke through it, surrounding my finger and creeping down my hand. "That's the most basic I can do. But I can lay an illusion, so close to something, and make it move, that you would think it was really that person."  
  
I was hit with a sudden impulse to show him me. I mean, what I really looked like. After all, who better could understand than he? It was an urge so strong, I actually had to stop speaking and concentrate on keeping it in place. Despite Kurt's appearance, a part of me was still convinced that he would denounce me, reject me, and I didn't want to go through that again. So I, throttled the urge down.  
  
"Metamorphs and illusionists." I said. "In a nutshell."  
  
"Ah." Kurt said.  
  
There was an awkward silence for a moment, as we both searched for something to say. "Well," he said, "I hope that the rest of your family is as generous and kind as you."  
  
I blushed, and was surprised at my reaction. "Ah, well, we just want to do right by people." I said.  
  
There was a knock on the door, and I flew off the sofa. It couldn't be Uncle Pat, it had only been fifteen minutes since I called! I peeked through the hole, and sure enough, it was.  
  
"Well," I said as I opened the door, "that was fast."  
  
"Crime scene's only about ten minutes away." He said.  
  
"Well, come on in. But brace yourself, you're in for a bit of a shock."  
  
I heard a small puff of noise behind me, and when I turned around to look, there was a swirling cloud of black smoke where Kurt had been only a moment before. It smelled very strongly of sulfur, a brimstone stench. "Huh." Pat said. "Well that's not something you see every day."  
  
"Kurt?" I called. "Where are you?" I walked back toward the bedroom, and in the darkness found a pair of glowing yellow eyes. "Why are you hiding? And how did you get back hear so fast?"  
  
"It is a reflex." He said softly. "Teleportation at will, the reflex was to hide." He clarified. "I do not know how he will react to me-"  
  
"He'll react fine." I said. "He's been around people like us all of his life."  
  
"Nein." Kurt said. "he's been around normal looking mutants all of his life. I am always like this-"  
  
It wrenched my heart to hear the pain in his voice. He was so afraid! And of one person! I turned the light on, and he flinched in the sudden brightness. It occurred to me then that he was built for shadow, for hiding, for stalking through the night, for devilish deeds. It did not suit the sweet seeming, light hearted personality. He would continue to be afraid, until given a reason to feel otherwise.  
  
I sighed, and as I sighed, I let the illusion I used to protect myself wisp away. Like heavy smoke, it slid off of me, the colors pooling at me feet, swirling before vanishing completely. I saw his jaw drop, and his eyes widen in surprise. "He knows." I said simply.  
  
Kurt's mouth worked soundless for a moment, and then he simply nodded. I took his hand, and led him reluctantly out into the living room.  
  
Pat had folded himself into my recliner, and he made it look much smaller than it really was. His eyes widened when he saw me, and grew even more wide when they fell upon Kurt. I realized we must have made quite a pair, like light and darkness together. "Ah." He said. "Well. No wonder he's shy."  
  
I felt Kurt's hand tighten in mine. "Well, when your as devilishly handsome as he is, you have to be careful. Or else you'll have all sorts of people throwing themselves at you!"  
  
Pat laughed, and I felt the tension leak out of Kurt's hand. "Uncle Pat, might I introduce Kurt? Kurt, this is my Uncle Pat Flannigan."  
  
"Just Kurt?" Pat asked, standing and offering his hand to Kurt.  
  
Kurt hesitated only a moment before taking his hand and shaking it. I could tell from Pat's reaction that he hadn't expected a three fingered grip, and then a look of respect at Kurt's grip. I think Kurt could tell too, because he began to stand up a bit straighter, his manner becoming slightly more confident. "Ja." Kurt said. "I'm afraid I can't remember much more."  
  
"Why not?" Pat asked.  
  
"It's a long story." I said. "you might wanna sit down." I said it to both of them. Kurt simply crouched on the floor again, tail curling around his legs, and Pat reclaimed my recliner.  
  
I told the story as briefly as I could, and with as much detail as I could recall. Pat would stop me every so often, ask me questions, and I would answer them. I conjured little illusions, the van, the men, the dumpster, trying to make them as detailed as possible. I did not show an illusion of Kurt, I simply said that he was pretty banged up.  
  
"Show me." Pat said, and I glanced at Kurt.  
  
"Ja. I want to see." He said.  
  
I sighed, and complied with their wishes. There was Kurt as I had found him, bloodied, beaten, his strange leather clothing in tatters. Even the bed sheets. Then, I dismissed the sheets, and rolled the illusion over.  
  
Kurt gasped, eyes widening slightly. A look of horror past over his face, and he said something low in German that I didn't quite catch. "This is why I had to call Ryan." I said softly. "it took both of us together to get him healed up."  
  
"Both?" Pat asked. "How?"  
  
I shifted. "Well, Ryan had to tap me to get enough juice to heal Kurt."  
  
"Define tap." Pat insisted.  
  
I paused. "I can't." I said finally. "It's beyond me. Ryan could though."  
  
My uncle shifted, unsatisfied with the answer.  
  
"I lived through that?" Kurt asked. There was an edge of disbelief to his voice. "You would think I would remember something like that happening to me."  
  
"I wouldn't want to remember it." I said, and dismissed it. "In fact, I still don't want to." I turned to Pat. "Well, does this help at all?"  
  
For a long moment, he was silent. Then, he said "Yeah, actually. It does." With a great sigh, he fished a pack of cigarettes out of his trench coat pocket. "Listen close, I don't wanna have to repeat this any more than I have to." 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer:: Again, don't own diddly but Morgan and her family.  
  
Warning!:: I've kept this rated PG-13 because it's no worse than some of the things that you'll find on prime-time crime dramas. However. there are some fairly graphic descriptions of violence and torture in this particular chapter. These are pivotal to the story, and I've tried to leave most of the gory details out and describe it as clinically as possible, still I thought it best to warn people so that you can just skip those parts. If anyone objects, please, drop me a review or an email and I'll up the rating on this story.  
  
Requests:: Reviews! Reviews are wonderful things! They let the author know that you enjoy their story, and you have an interest in seeing how the characters progress!  
  
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I waited for Pat to gather himself, not quite on the edge of my seat, but not as relaxed as I could have been. He was breaking the rules talking to me. Then again, it wasn't anything he hadn't done in the past. I had been using my illusions to help him solve crimes since I was 19, so for the past seven years or so. Some of the crime scenes were pretty gruesome, but he swears that without my help he wouldn't have solved any of them. Truthfully, I had a passion for detective work but I tried to limit my snooping to computers, and not such tangible means as police work.  
  
He sighed. "Well, it started back in April. We found this guy, he'd been strung up-" Pat shivered. "I'll sum it up. We've found eight bodies so far, all of which show signs of torture before death. Being racked, nails pulled off, carved up, stuff like that. The past three we've found have been skinned alive. Not their entire body, not yet. But each one has been worse than the one before it." He took off his fedora and scrubbed a hand through his short, crew cut red hair. "Each scene has been a bloody mess. How we've managed to keep it quiet is amazing."  
  
"What's the connection?" I asked.  
  
"The time frame. It's in a countdown. We found the first one on April 11. The next was on May eight, then June first." He said.  
  
"It's losing three days every time." Kurt said softly. "That means the next one, it would have been on, ah, June 22."  
  
Pat nodded. "it's been counting down fairly steadily. You would have been number nine. It's building up towards something. Something big. There's more though. Blue boy here confirms it for me."  
  
Kurt raised an eyebrow at the nickname my uncle had given him. "Ja? That is?"  
  
"I believe all the victims were mutants." He said.  
  
I absorbed that particular bit of knowledge with a chill. "Well, that's cheery," I said.  
  
"Yeah." Pat agreed.  
  
"Could you give me more details?" Kurt asked. His tail, which had been wrapped around his legs, was now swishing excitedly.  
  
"I can give you all the details you like. You're my first living clue." Pat said.  
  
Pat told Kurt that seven of the victims had been male, and the other two female. They ranged in age from sixteen to forty two. There didn't seem to be a racial preference.  
  
The first victim had been hung naked from a ceiling by his wrists, and had weights strapped to his ankles. The only bones still connected to each other were those in his hands, feet, the plates in his skull, and his jaw. Everything else had been pulled apart.  
  
When they'd found the next victim, a female found in the bathroom of a gay nightclub, they'd thought it had been a lovers quarrel. She'd died of a gunshot wound to the head, but before the bullet had ended her life, she'd had her fingernails and toenails pulled out by the roots.  
  
The third man they'd found dumped in a dumpster. He'd suffered so many lacerations that he'd simply bled out. The fourth had also been found in a dumpster-well, a series of them. He'd been dismembered, and not neatly. Like someone had grabbed him and just ripped him apart bare handed. There were even bruises on his skin that could have come from human hands.  
  
It was probably the fifth one that got me the most though. Another woman, this one found naked. Pat had trouble telling this one, he was practically shaking with rage when he finished describing what had been done to her. Kurt looked pale, and I actually felt physically ill. In a nutshell, after being brutally raped, she'd been disemboweled, and her insides had been used to decorate an alley as if it were Christmas. I gathered that she'd been alive for the process, until her poor body couldn't take it anymore.  
  
The sixth victim was the first of the skinned ones. He'd been scalped, head, shoulders, arms and face skinned, apparently while he was still alive. The seventh was much the same, only he'd been skinned down to his hips. The eight had been skinned from neck to ankles on the back, and his stomach as well.  
  
All of us were silent for a moment. "The first girl, she was found in a gay bar wasn't she?" I asked. Pat nodded. "Well, was she a lesbian?"  
  
"According to the bartender, yeah. She was kind of a regular there." Pat answered, "If your thinking the other one was gay though, you'd be wrong. She was engaged."  
  
"Did you bother to ask her fiancée if she might have been bi? Or if they took playmates to the bedroom with them occasionally?" I asked.  
  
"He denied it." Pat said. "Said that she'd never expressed any interest in that. Talking to her friends and family, she was fairly white bread. Besides, she was raped. The murder couldn't be a woman."  
  
Apparently he'd already thought of what I'd thought of. "Well, what do the vics have in common?"  
  
"As far as I can tell, absolutely nothing." Pat said. He gave a huge yawn and stretched. Exhaustion was clearly written in his features.  
  
We weren't going to get anywhere this way. "Is the file in the cop box?" I asked. It was my personal slang for the departments computer system. I was rather familiar with it.  
  
"No. We've kept it off so hackers like you can't sneak it out." Pat said. "But I'll see if I can't get you all the information we have on it."  
  
"Fine then. Go home. Get some sleep." I said. I stood up and stretched, my brain buzzing with all sorts of theories. "Get me those files, and I'll tell you what I find out."  
  
"You shoulda been a cop." Pat chuckled. "I stick a mystery under your nose, and that's all you can smell until you've got it solved."  
  
"My momma didn't raise no cops." I said.  
  
"How do you explain four of your brothers then?" Pat grinned as he slogged towards my front door.  
  
"Dad raised those four." I answered, and shoved him, laughing, out the door.  
  
"Mien Gott," Kurt said softly, "Such horrible murders-"  
  
"Yeah." I said, and scrubbed a hand through my hair. I was bone weary, and what I really wanted was sleep. We both only been up for just a few hours, but I saw him yawning, and new he must have been as tired as me. "Tell you what, why don't we both get some sleep. Maybe tomorrow we can come at this with fresh minds."  
  
"Ja. That is probably the best course of action." He said. "I shall take the couch.  
  
I thought about it for a moment. "No, I can."  
  
"Nein. I insist. I have already removed you from your bed one night. I have no desire to remove you from it for another. A pillow and a blanket will suit me just fine." He said.  
  
I shrugged. "Suit yourself." I fetched him what he asked for, and then bade him good night, falling into my own bed still fully clothed. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.  
  
I woke to the sound of a voice speaking softly in German. I couldn't make out the words but the tone was low, urgent. I lay still for a moment, trying to orient myself to the voice. It sounded like it was coming from the living room, which is where I had left Kurt. I rolled out of bed, and peeked down the hall and to the couch.  
  
Kurt lay in nothing but his boxers, the blanket tangled in his legs, and he looked tense, head rolling back and forth of the pillow. As I watched he shifted, legs squirming, tail corkscrewing as his face twisted up painfully. He spat out something harsh. Clearly, he was having a nightmare. "Nein! NEIN! Lassen Sie mich allein! Lassen Sie mich sein!" I heard him say.  
  
"Kurt," I crossed the room and knelt next to the couch, reaching my hand out to him. A full throated scream tore itself free of his lips, and he thrashed wildly on the couch. I grabbed his arms, and was surprised when he tore them from my grasp. Faster than I could think he had rolled off the couch and bore me to the ground, my legs still folded painfully underneath me. I felt his body press hard against mine, his fingers digging into my arms. He snarled at me, bright yellow eyes snapping open.  
  
As fast as it had happened, I heard him gasp and saw the recognition in his eyes. Immediately he was gone in a puff of black smoke. I groaned unfolded my legs from under me. "Ich bin traurig, Ich bin traurig, verzeihen Sie mir bitte." Kurt was whispering. I turned and saw him.  
  
Much to my amazement, he'd wedged himself into the only empty corner of my living room, upside down, hanging from my ceiling like some weird kind of spider. He looked dazed, confused.  
  
"Kurt," I said softly, "please, come down here."  
  
He blinked is large, golden eyes at me, and gave a visible shudder, then lightly dropped down from the floor. I watched as he nimbly turned himself, screwing his body around so that he landed on his feet in a deep crouch, facing me. "Ich bin traurig." He said.  
  
"What does that mean?" I asked.  
  
His tail lashed, and then wrapped itself around his legs. "I'm sorry," he said. He looked thoroughly miserable, and frightened. I went to him, kneeling down next to him. He was still shivering, from fear or what I don't know. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder, feeling the slick softness of his fur under my fingertips. It was like touching velveteen.  
  
He flinched away, but I don't think it was because I touched him. "Kurt, there's nothing to apologize for. You were having a nightmare, it was reflex." I moved a bit closer, off to the side, and deliberately put my arm around his bare shoulders. He hesitated a moment before trying to pull away again, "Kurt, no one is going to hurt you here." I said softly, and he stopped moving. "It's all right to be afraid. You've been through a lot. If it were me, I'd be blubbering on the floor by now."  
  
Abruptly, his weight sagged into me. His head found my shoulder and rested there as his arms came around me. Even his tail got into the act, wrapping itself around my leg. There was a surprising amount of strength in his wiry arms, and he held me tightly. He was shaking, his shoulders moving in silent rhythm, and I felt something hot and wet soaking through the fabric of my shirt. I held him there, on the floor, and whispered to him. I don't remember what I said. Words of comfort, more than likely. I do remember the feeling of his hair, like silk through my fingers, the feel of his skin against mine.  
  
He stayed there for a long while, until my legs fell asleep, and my back ached, and still I held him. My physical discomfort was less important than his emotional well being. It was only after I couldn't feel my toes anymore that he quieted, and carefully extracted himself from my embrace. The skin around his eyes was puffy and swollen, and there was a rather large wet spot on my shirt from where his tears had fallen. "My apologies again," he said sheepishly, and scrubbed at his eyes. "I don't know why I lost control like that." He sounded embarrassed, awkward, as if he didn't know what he was doing. Lost, for lack of a better word.  
  
I shifted and unfolded my legs, stretching them painfully in front of me. "Because you needed to." I said through gritted teeth. "No man is an island." I wriggled my toes, and felt that familiar pins and needles sensation as the blood began to flow freely. It was almost painful, and that must have shown on my face because Kurt knelt beside me, concern clear on his face. "I'm fine. Just, both my legs are asleep."  
  
"Ach, Ich bin solch ein Idiot!" he shook his head. "I should not have kept you on the floor like that." Before I could protest, he had slipped on arm under my knees, the other under the small of my back and lifted me up off the floor. I squeaked and wrapped my arms around his neck, and he laughed as he carried me to the sofa. Gently, he sat me down on the sofa. Then, much to my surprise, he squatted down in front of me and took one of my feet into his oddly shaped hands.  
  
Gently, he began to massage the life back into my feet, up the length of my calves and back down. Despite myself, I felt a soft sigh escape my lips and my head fell back against the couch. He chuckled. "Ja, that is usually the reaction I get from doing this." He said, and then paused, "I think. It seems so, yes." His face was quizzical, and he looked up at me and wiggled his eyebrows. I laughed despite myself. My legs were feeling remarkable better, though my back was still relatively achey. He continued for a few more moments, then spilled into the other end of the couch, curling up, legs tucked under his chin. It looked like an uncomfortable position, but he seemed content. I tucked my legs beneath me, and grabbed the remote off the end table. "I don't know about you," I said, "But I'm probably not going to get back to sleep tonight."  
  
"Nein." He said. "I think perhaps I'm awake for a while."  
  
I turned on the TV and surfed through the channels until I found something I liked. We sat on the couch and stared at the screen, not talking, preferring to let the television provide the ultimate distraction and fill the silence. I stretched my legs out, lounging against the arm of the chair, and after a few moments Kurt's tail wrapped around my ankle. I blinked at it blearily, for I had grown very sleepy sitting here on the sofa. Kurt had nodded off, curled up on the other end of the couch. I shrugged inwardly, and turned my attention back to the TV  
  
I was awakened by the sound of metal squealing.  
  
Translations provided by Wordlingo.com  
  
Nein! NEIN! Lassen Sie mich allein! Lassen Sie mich sein! = No! no! Leave me alone! Let me be! Ich bin traurig, Ich bin traurig, verzeihen Sie mir bitte. = I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please forgive me. Ach, Ich bin solch ein Idiot! = Ah! I am such an idiot! 


	5. Chapter 5

I rolled off the couch and stared at my front door. Kurt cursed, and I heard the soft implosion of air as he vanished off of my couch. He reappeared a few moments later off to the side of the door in a low crouch, staring at it. My door is, as most apartment complexes have nowadays, a steel door. It was meant to take a beating, and help block the outside noise. Nothing could cut through those doors unless it was a cutting torch.  
  
Yet there appeared to be three knives shaving their way rapidly around my doorknob. I felt frozen, I couldn't move. Abruptly, the blades vanished. There was a pause before the door suddenly flew open.  
  
Sunlight poured in through the open door, and I raised my arms to shield my eyes from the near blinding light. Framed in the doorway was a tree stump of a man. He was short, broad, built solidly. I already knew that underneath the flannel shirt and the blue jeans there was a set of tightly compact muscles. I could tell little else. I realized that I was on my knees, one hand on the floor, the other in front of my eyes. Like I was about to beg this intruder for my life.  
  
"Alright," the man said, and his voice was gruff, gravely, "Where is he?" he demanded. I raised an eyebrow at him as I picked myself up off the floor.  
  
"He who?" I asked innocently. The man raised his nose to the air, and sniffed.  
  
"I can smell 'im." He said, and stepped into my apartment. "His scent is all over this place. Brimstone.."  
  
Kurt moved then. He slid in behind the intruder and his tailed lashed around the mans neck. The man's eyes widened, and without even looking he reached back, grabbed Kurt by the back of his neck, and flung him across the room. This of course sent them both tumbling, as Kurt did not release his neck. They bounced painfully off the floor, and Kurt's tail recoiled as he rolled nimbly to his feet. "You will not hurt Morgan!" he growled, placing himself squarely between me the intruder.  
  
"Dammit fuzzy," my intruder cursed. "What the hell has gotten into you?" he hauled himself to his feet and rubbed at his neck.  
  
I saw Kurt shift uneasily. "Who are you?" he asked.  
  
"What th'hell d'ya mean who am I?" The man demanded. "You get knocked on the head or something elf? I'm the same guy I've been for years!"  
  
"As a matter of fact," I interrupted, "he did. And his question is a valid one. Who the hell are you?"  
  
I don't think that the man could have had a better expression of surprise. His bushy eyebrows flew up, eyes widening. Even his mouth gaped open. He must have realized he looked like a stunned fish, because he abruptly snapped his square jaw shut and his expression grew grim. "This better not be a joke fuzzy." He said.  
  
"No joke." I said flatly. "Now who are you?"  
  
The man scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Logan." He said. "My name is Logan." He went back to the door and closed it as best he could. "Now, explain."  
  
Kurt rose from where he'd been crouched on my floor. "Logan," he said softly. The named rolled off his tongue, as if he were tasting it, trying to determine what flavor this particular person was. "I don't remember-"  
  
"So I gathered." Logan said. He gave up on the door –it kept wanting to swing open- and turned his attention back to Kurt. "What happened Wagner?" he said the name as if the v were a w. As if it were pronounced VAH-gner. "Wagner?" Kurt repeated. His brow furrowed for a moment, then his expression brightened "Yes! Wagner! That is my last name!" He smiled, white teeth flashing in the darkness of his face. "Kurt Wagner! Acrobat extraordinaire!"  
  
"Acrobat?" I repeated softly. "Hang on, let's get one thing sorted out first." I pointed at Logan. "You know Kurt. Fine. How do we know you don't mean him any harm? How do we know your not the one who tore him up in the first place?" I looked at those claws, the physicality of the man, and an awful, awful thought occurred to me.  
  
If this man had a pair of claws that could go through a steel door like butter, then he could easily have caused the wounds the Kurt had suffered. That others had suffered. This man could very well be the serial killer.  
  
I backed up slowly in the direction of the phone. Hopefully I could make a dive for it and call the cops before he got to me. Maybe Kurt could delay him-  
  
"Fuzzy and me have been pals for a long time." Logan said. "I'd sooner hurt myself than him. Well, unless it's a session in the Danger room. Then, anything goes." He grinned, it was a vicious smile, but still somehow managed to be filled with good humor. "If there's something goin on with him and I can help, then I'll help." He folded his arms across his chest.  
  
"We are friends?" Kurt repeated. Again, he sounded lost, small, like a child who'd gotten separated from his mamma. "I do not remember!"  
  
I halted my progression to the phone and instinctively took a step towards Kurt. Fortunately, I stopped myself before I could do something embarrassing. "Okay. Here's how it's going to work. I don't trust you." I said, looking at Logan flatly. "You didn't come a-knocking, you came a- breaking and entering. I'm not entirely sure you are who you say you are, or that you know Kurt as a friend of as someone who might look tasty at the end of one of your claws." Logan snorted, and I continued. "My Uncle is a cop. I'm going to call him, and have him have his buddies on standby. He's already met Kurt, so you can relax, he has no problem with mutants."  
  
"I hope not." Logan muttered. "Seeing as how he's got on in the family."  
  
It took a moment for me to realize what Logan meant. I looked at myself, I mean really looked. My legs gleamed whitely, my arms, my hands-my illusion was gone! I don't know when it happened, or why I hadn't noticed, but it was alarming that my control had slipped at some point. With a hiss of irritation, I slipped the illusion back on. Logan raised an eyebrow. I ignored it. "is that satisfactory with you?" I said.  
  
"Whatever makes you feel better." Logan said. He wandered into my kitchen, and came back with a beer. Then, he dropped bonelessly into my recliner. "Mind if I smoke?" he asked, producing a cigar from his pocket.  
  
"Hell no." I said, still rattled. "it sounds like a damn good idea to me." I hated smoking indoors, but with the front door open, it wasn't that bad. I left long enough to retrieve my cigarettes from my nightstand, and open the back door so that the wind drafted through my apartment. I lit a cigarette with shaking hands and came back into the living room before calling my Uncle.  
  
Our conversation was brief. It would take him about fifteen minutes to get to my place, so I decided to make a pot of coffee while we waited. The tension in my apartment was so thick, it was almost like a visible force. Kurt was agitated, shifting, moving around the room, trying to stay out of sight of the open door. Without thinking I laid an illusion over him, and he smiled at me gratefully.  
  
"Illusionist?" Logan asked.  
  
"Among other things." I answered, and emerged from the kitchen with a cup of coffee and another cigarette. "Coffee in the kitchen if you want it." I said.  
  
Logan raised his beer. "No thanks."  
  
"I was talking to Kurt." I said. Not that I thought Kurt needed anything else, it might make him even more edgy.  
  
Patrick arrived not long after. It looked like he'd just thrown on a pair of suit pants and his trench coat over his pajamas. How the man could wear layers in this kind of heat was amazing. He saw the two men, and raised an eyebrow at me. "Both real." I said. "That's Kurt." I pointed at him in his disguise. "This is Logan."  
  
"Right." Patrick said. "Fine then. Bring me up to speed. And what the hell happened to your door?"  
  
I gave him all the pertinent details, and he said "Aha. Alright. Well, let's get started then. Has anyone explained to Logan here what's happened?"  
  
"Nein." Kurt said. "But I will." He told Logan everything that we knew about how he was found, what he remembered, everything. Logan's face grew darker and darker when Kurt told of his injuries, and then speculative when Kurt came to how I had found him and helped him. "There is more, of course. But, I am afraid I do not remember much. I know I should know you, my body wants to know you. It wants to relax, to just be, but my mind is getting in the way. It is telling me that I do not know you, and my heart tells me yet another thing!" He finished in a near yell, tension clearly visible around his eyes.  
  
"I can tell you anything you need to know-" Logan began to say.  
  
"It's best if he discovers it on his own." Ryan said from the doorway. He was wearing a pair of cut off shorts and a blue T-shirt, sandals encasing his feet. Bearing a crock-pot and several bags, he simply walked in and went straight into my kitchen. "If you tell him, his brain might stop trying to find the answers." He said. "Best to let him find out on his own."  
  
"Would taking him home help?" Logan asked.  
  
"A familiar environment couldn't hurt." Ryan emerged from the kitchen. "What happened to your front door?"  
  
"Him." I said, and pointed. "You owe me a new front door."  
  
Logan shrugged. "Fine. Bill me."  
  
"You will buy the fraulien a new door, mien freund." Kurt said firmly.  
  
"All right, all right." Logan said, and he grinned at Kurt. "Some things never change. You always have a soft spot for women." He rolled his shoulders. "You trust me enough to come back on my own? Or are you gonna send an escort with me?"  
  
"Escort of course." I said. "If you don't mind, Uncle Pat?"  
  
They left, and I sat down heavily. This was all going so fast! Kurt seemed willing to trust Logan readily enough, but we had heard nothing from him that would indicate he was friend or foe. I was leaning toward Logan being one of the good guys, judging solely from his reactions, but it could be that he was just a phenomenal actor. The fact that was an asshole was secondary.  
  
"He is a friend of Kurt's." Ryan said softly. He sat down next to me and put his arm around me. "You okay?"  
  
"I'm exhausted." I said. "I'm worn out, I'm scared, I'm confused, I don't know." I said softly.  
  
Kurt surveyed us for a moment before taking himself a bit apart. "I think I will just go, ah, take a shower.." he said.  
  
I leaned into Ryan, and the comfort his shoulder offered me. "I feel like I haven't really had a moment to rest for the past three days." I said.  
  
"How did things go after I left?" Ryan asked.  
  
"Kurt was a perfect gentleman, if you're trying to imply something." I said.  
  
"Not at all." Ryan said. "I just-" he shifted. "Well, you know I'm a bit of an empath"  
  
I pulled away from him. "Get to the point Ryan."  
  
"Just that." He scrubbed a hand through his blonde hair. "You know that I can't read you very well-"  
  
"Because I'm an illusionist." She said. "I still don't understand that one, but go ahead."  
  
I heard the water turn on in the shower. "He's attracted to you Morgan."  
  
"Hmm?" I said, distracted. Then, I blinked. "Wait, he's what?"  
  
"Attracted to you." Ryan repeated patiently. "He really likes you. I just, I wanted to make sure that he didn't try anything."  
  
"Ah, no." I said. "No, he didn't try anything at all."  
  
"Good." Ryan said. "Well, I mean not good, but.. well, you know what I mean."  
  
I laughed and patted his knee. "I know what you mean." Desperate for a change of subject, I said "So what's the crock pot for?"  
  
"Pot Roast." He said. "I figured that's what's for dinner tonight."  
  
"Your cooking?" I asked.  
  
"Well, we can't subject an invalid to your idea of food." Ryan chuckled from the kitchen. I couldn't argue with that. I was horrible cook.  
  
Left with nothing to do, I proceeded back to my computer. It was possible I might be able to get a little bit of work done before Logan and Patrick came back. I booted up and went straight to my email. Amazingly enough, it appeared that today was going to be a slow day. I only had one e-mail, and it wasn't from a source I recognized. I clicked on the name, and watched it load.  
  
It was another bank hack. Not too much of a problem. I had it finished by the time Kurt had exited the shower. "You leave me enough hot water?" I smiled at him. The illusion was still in place, and I wondered briefly if that had made showering difficult. I didn't wonder for long though, because once again he was clad only in those jeans and toweling his hair dry. I felt my eyes travel down the length of his body. I realized what I was doing and snapped my eyes back up to his face, but I knew I'd been caught. "Ja, I think so." He said shortly. Too late, I realized he must have thought that I was checking him out because of the illusion. I wanted to correct him, but didn't have the courage to say so.  
  
I rose from my computer and padded into my bedroom. I was sweaty and sticky, the heat of summer rolling into my apartment, and I wanted nothing more than a cool shower.  
  
I hoped the water would help to wash away the clutter in my mind as well, but it didn't. It still wanted to run little circles around what Ryan had told me, and why every time I thought about it, I got a little flutter in my stomach. Unbidden, a sensory memory came to me. The touch of velvet against my skin, and the hardness muscle beneath. The strength of his arms, the silk of his hair running through my fingers, even the feeling of his tail as it had looped around my leg. I shuddered, but not because of the chill water.  
  
I took a deep breath, and forced myself to calm down. I couldn't deny that I was intrigued by him, attracted to him. Still, I didn't see myself building a relationship with someone who could only remember half of his life, and I wasn't one for a one night stand.  
  
I finished my shower and dried myself off, then dressed. When I emerged from my bedroom, Kurt and Logan were busy installing my brand new door. I raised an eyebrow at Kurt, and he shrugged. Logan sniffed, and turned to look at me. "Huh." He said. Then he turned back to Kurt. "No wonder you smell like a girl. Using her bath stuff, huh elf?"  
  
"Ja well, it's what's available." Kurt said. "Besides, I like mangos."  
  
I laughed. "Could be worse. Could be baby powder fresh." Both of the men winced, and I chuckled again.  
  
Patrick came back in then. He'd dressed, and was carrying a thick file. "Well, I had to fight like hell to get this, but.." he shrugged, and tossed me the file. "It's all there, pictures and everything." He said grimly. "If I were you, I wouldn't eat before or after looking at them."  
  
Logan looked at me inquisitively, but didn't say anything. They got the last screw in place, and he slide it open and closed a few times. "Works fine." He said, then he knelt on the floor and began to take apart the lock and the doorknob off the door he'd cut up.  
  
I sat down on the floor, and put the file in front of me. I didn't want to open it, I didn't want to see the pictures that I knew it contained, or read the information that was probably written in cramped script. There would be lab results, fingerprint notes, and personal information on the victims that they had. The file was a good four inches thick, and it would take a while to go through it.  
  
Kurt squatted on the floor across from me, and regarded me wordlessly. His tail twitched around his legs, and tapped the folder. I nodded slowly. "I don't want to open it." I said softly.  
  
"Ja. Yet you must." Kurt said sympathetically.  
  
"Bad news?" Logan asked. He had gotten the knob and the deadbolt apart, and was busy fitting the doorknob into the whole the door had for it.  
  
"You might say that." I said.  
  
Patrick's pager went off. "Dammit." He said. "I gotta go, they may have more news on the scene." He said. He bent over and kissed my on the forehead. "Take care hun, I'll call you later to see how things are going, okay?"  
  
"Okay." I said, and watched him leave. This left me alone with Ryan, Kurt, and Logan.  
  
I sighed, heavily.  
  
"Well, I'm off." Ryan said, surprising me. He glanced at Logan. "You gonna be okay..?" he didn't bother to make a pretense of his suspicion.  
  
"I'll be fine." I said. "Kurt will make sure I'm safe, won't you Kurt?" I asked him, smiling, and he grinned back. "I don't trust him either." Ryan said flatly. I was shocked at that. I stared at him, not knowing what to say. There was a ver pregnant pause, and finally he shrugged. "I'll be back in a few hours." He said, and then left without even saying goodbye. What the hell had crawled up his ass? I have a feeling he would have slammed the door, if I had a door to slam.  
  
"Well." Logan said.  
  
"I agree." I said tersely.  
  
"I would not hurt you Morgan," Kurt said. "You must believe that."  
  
"I do Kurt." I said it without hesitation. I didn't even have to think. Sometimes, you just know things, and I knew that no matter what, even if Kurt turned out to be a bad guy, that he would never hurt me. "I'm not to sure about him though." I jerked my head towards Logan.  
  
"Oh, you don't have to worry about Logan." Kurt said. "He's a kitten." There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "I remember once, when Kitty-" he paused. "Katzchen." He said softly. "Ach, I remember her name, her face, but I don't remember how I know her!"  
  
Logan closed the door, for he'd finished working on the door. He closed it, then, to my surprise, locked it. In response, I let the illusion around Kurt fade. I'd much rather see him as himself, then in the colors I'd painted him with.  
  
Logan came over and rested a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Kitty is a very close friend of both of us." He said. "She's like a little sister. She was the one who begged me to come looking for you. Granted, I was already planning on it, but still.." he shrugged. "The sooner we get you home, the better."  
  
Kurt's tail coiled and uncoiled. "There is still something that needs doing here." He said, and indicated the folder. "Perhaps you can help solve the mystery Logan."  
  
He shrugged, and dropped down on the floor next to us, so that we sat in a circle around the still closed folder. "What mystery?"  
  
"Murders." I said softly. "And why they didn't finish the job with Kurt."  
  
I took a deep breath, and opened the folder.  
  
I was relieved to see a neatly typed cover page, and not glossy pictures. I lifted the file out, and skimmed it. Mark Blackburn. Age 24. Strangled. It was the file on the first victim. Attached to the file by paperclip, on the back, were the photographs.  
  
He'd probably been fairly attractive alive, but now his face was purple, a line of blood around his neck where the wire had cut into his skin. There was a look of terror on his face, eyes still open and staring glassily forward. I spread the photographs out on the floor, they showed his apartment, down to the last detail.  
  
Forensics had found no prints, no fibers, no hair, no epithelials, no nothing. There was no sign of a struggle, other than the immediate area, no sign of forced entry. It was like the person had just walked in, strangled him, and walked back out without leaving a single piece behind. There wasn't even any skin under the victims fingernails. Nothing.  
  
Each of the crime scenes were like that. There was nothing in the way of clues, nothing to link the murders together except for the countdown to the end. The two women broke up the gender theme, and they were all so vastly different from each other, that it seemed there was no rhyme or reason to it at all.  
  
I was willing to bet that they'd been so busy testing the DNA of the victims to make a positive match, that they hadn't been testing DNA for anything other than that. Some mutations were more subtle than others, and they may not even necessarily show up on the initial tests.  
  
I had to stop about halfway through to throw up. It didn't make me feel better, but it did reaffirm the fact that I was indeed alive and human. We poured over each file carefully, until we came to the very last one. This one was simply entitled "Possible connection." It read basically that there was lots and lots and lots of blood on the scene, signs of a struggle, and that, shock of shocks, it appeared that the blood had come from a mutant. This of course had made everyone wonder if it was connected at all, and right now the lab was running tests to see if any of the other vics had been mutants. Boy, would they be surprised.  
  
"you must have a lot of genetic markers on your DNA if it popped up that fast." I said.  
  
"Well, look at me." Was his response. "I was born this way. It's pretty clear to anyone what I am." The tone he used was light, but I could hear the pain behind it. So many years of hurt piled up, my heart ached for him.  
  
"Same here." I said, then smiled. "Same boat I guess."  
  
We spent hours going over the folders, and in the end could find nothing, absolutely nothing that was helpful. Whoever the killer was, they were very, very good. And, I was willing to bet, they were also a mutant.  
  
I finally declared I'd had enough, and we put the folders away just as the smell of the crock pot began to fill the apartment. Pot Roast! Ryan sure knew how to make me happy! I rose from my position on the floor, legs and back aching, and stretched. "Oh my goodness." I said, and dragged it out to go with the stretch. "Too much time on the floor, and not enough exercise."  
  
Logan snorted. I ignored him and went into the kitchen to make sure the roast didn't need more water. It would be my luck that the damn thing would dry out while I was otherwise occupied.  
  
Someone knocked on my door, and I halted my progression. I glance at Logan and Kurt, and they took the hint, retreating to my bedroom. I waited for only a moment before going to my front door and opening it right up.  
  
A petite blonde stood before me, dressed in tight blue jeans and a midriff top that exposed the larger portion of her belly. Sandals clad her feet, and her skin was a deep, deep golden brown. There was a clipboard clutched in her tiny hand, and had a sunny smile. "Hi!" She said brightly. "My name is Candy, and I'm conducting a survey for my Psychology class. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"  
  
Sure what the hell? It's not like I was busy. Besides, I was lonely. It had been a few days since I had company. "Sure, what can I answer for you?"  
  
"Okay great!" She said, and bounced on her toes. I noted that she had rather an attractive figure. "First question.. may I have your name please?"  
  
"Morgan Flannigan." I said. She jotted it down. I found my eyes kept drifting to the line of her collarbone and lower, peeking at the cleavage revealed by the low-cut midriff Tee she was wearing. Really, she was incredibly attractive. Why hadn't I noticed it before?  
  
"Okay. Now, how do you feel about mutants?" she asked.  
  
"I feel fine about them." I said. "They are people too." She jotted that down too, and now I found myself staring at her rosebud of a mouth. I wondered what it would be like to kiss those soft lips.  
  
"Are you a mutant?" She asked.  
  
"Yes." I said. Did she have to flip her hair like that? It was very distracting. I was having difficulty focusing on anything besides how much I wanted to get this girl into my bed.  
  
"What are your powers?" she asked.  
  
"I'm an illusionist." I said. I summoned a rose for her, hoping it would please her. "See?"  
  
She clapped her pretty hands together, clipboard and all, and wiggled most pleasantly. "Ooh most impressive!" She lowered her eyes, then glanced up at me through impossibly long lashes. "Do you think, you might let me in and show me what else you can do?"  
  
I really had to fight to keep myself from throwing her to the ground and ripping all of her clothes off, but I managed a strangle "Sure." She was going to let me please her! Yay! I stepped aside and let her in, then closed and locked the door behind me.  
  
Immediately, she dropped the clipboard and turned to me, her fingers sliding into my hair, and pulling my head down for a kiss. All thought left me as I lost myself in her, hands wandering over her curves, tugging bits of clothing off of her...  
  
I felt arms wrap around me from behind, strong arms, masculine, and I squirmed. "Lemme go!" I said.  
  
"Nein." And unfamiliar voice said. "You will hurt yourself."  
  
"You!" Candy said. Her eyes flared red, and I felt a twinge of fear. Why was my blonde goddess angry? What could I do to make it up to her? "I wasn't able to finish the job before, but I sure as hell can now!" Candy hissed, and I whimpered.  
  
"Please, don't hurt me, I love you!!" I said. I struggled, I wanted to get down on the floor, to prostrate myself before this divine creature. I had to be in her favor!  
  
"Not you dolt!" She said. "Him!" She pointed, and I looked over my shoulder at was holding me.  
  
A blue devil was gripping me tight. Terrified, I screamed. I screamed and thrashed, and in desperation, I conjured an illusion of a loin leaping at him. But he held me fast, and would not let me go. I scratched at his arms, kicked, scream, in desperation I even bit him. I broke through the skin, and his blood hit my tongue with a coppery tang.  
  
"You got a problem with him?" I heard another man ask, and saw someone come out of my bedroom. How had he gotten there? What the hell was going on?  
  
"Behind you!" I shouted, and Candy turned.  
  
"Fuzzy?" Logan questioned. I heard a soft noise, and felt as if something jerked me around. Suddenly I was behind the man, still being held fast. I threw up, and felt a sudden lurch. The room swam, and suddenly I was standing in the sunlight. I threw up yet again, getting it all over myself and the devil who was holding me, and then everything went black. 


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you all for the great reviews!  
  
Gypsy:: I'm glad your enjoying it so much! I couldn't think of a better place to have Morgan and Kurt start off than in her apartment. As you can see, I have brought other x-men into the story, and I'm sure I'll be bringing in more later. Morgan is... pretty much me. LOL it's what I'd do, if that universe were real, and I was able to do it. Keep checking back! I hope to update more frequently!  
  
Celia: Thanks for the website, I'll be sure to check that out. I wonder if they do Gaelic...and You've already got your answer to the metal squealing question. Though honestly, I feel like that chapter is the weakest one so far. Yes she and Pat are a lot like Father Daughter. Pat's her mother's brother, and when Morgan's dad was away, Pat was the one that took care of them all. So there's definitely a bit of that in their relationship.  
  
Coral: Don't worry, it's just nice to know that your enjoying it so much! And who says it's Candy's voice...  
  
Ezrajade: Thank you very much. For some reason, even though I hate reading first person, I seem to be good at writing it. It might be because I only have to deal with one characters perspective, or it could be that I've read too much Laurell K Hamilton!  
  
Goddesschild: Only one thing I can say is, thank you. That's exactly the kind of review I'm striving for! :D :D  
  
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I swimming in a sea of blackness. It was warm, and liquid against my skin and comforting like the embrace of a lover. There was also a rushing, roaring sound that reminded me of the ocean breaking upon the rocks. A good sound, soothing and steady and completely natural. I felt safe, warm, comforted, as if nothing in the world could possibly harm me. There was no sense of time, no sense of self other than that I existed, and in that existence was the ultimate perfection of peace.  
  
Then, color came. Warm reds and oranges, subtle in the deep darkness, flashing across my field of vision. Only it wasn't just in front of me, it was around me. I could see it circling me from every ankle, as if my eyes did not point forward, but everywhere at the same time. The color brushed across my skin like cool silk, wrapped itself around me, flirted with me before fluttering off. Soon other colors joined it, blues, greens, yellows, all manner of color.  
  
Sounds too came, distant, like voices at the end of a hall you can just barely make out. I strained to hear them, and in the straining felt my very first sensation. A deep throbbing that seemed to emanate from where my head should be, and slowly spreading out into the rest of me. It pulsed, and with each pulse came more sensation. Pleasant at first, then building faster and faster, become more intense, more painful, until I felt I could cry from it.  
  
Then, there was chaos. Lights, sounds, sensations, all pummeling at me, overwhelming me. I couldn't make sense of anything. I shut my eyes, and whimpered, trying to raise my hands to cover my ears, but they were strapped down. Tears flowed from my eyes and down my cheeks. "Morgan?" Someone said, and I thrashed in my bonds. It hurt! Oh I felt my ears would bleed from it!  
  
Then, it stopped. It was like a camera coming back into focus. Everything fell into place, and I realized with an absolute clarity where I was. I was laying on a rather hard mattress, with padded straps encasing my ankles and wrists. There was another strap across my legs, and another across my chest just below my breasts. There was a low humming sound, like an engine. I could taste something acrid on my tongue, like I'd thrown up and hadn't had anything to drink afterward. The smell of it hung thick in the air, clung to me, and clothes felt damp in places. Had I been sick?  
  
I opened my eyes and saw a polished steel ledge above me. My eyes scanned the area, noting the narrowness of the room, yet more polished steel, and a few chairs with harnesses on them. Then, my eyes fell upon Kurt. He was looking at me with deep concern, crouched next to the bed.  
  
"Kurt," I rasped, my throat was dry, burning, and I was desperately thirsty. "What happened?"  
  
Relief passed over his face, fleeting, and then he schooled his expression to one of calm. "I am not sure." He said. "Do you remember what happened?"  
  
I frowned, trying to think of the last thing I remembered. I recalled someone knocking on my door, and answering it, but beyond that I couldn't remember a damn thing. I shook my head and winced, for it caused a surprising amount of pain. "No." I said. "Thirsty."  
  
He disappeared and came back a few moments later with a glass of water. He held my head up, putting the glass to my lips and I drank greedily. The cool water tasted so good that I whimpered when he took the glass away. "Not too much, or you will make yourself sick again." He said.  
  
"Why am I restrained?" I asked, wiggling my arm feebly. I was pleased when it didn't hurt that much.  
  
"You were not yourself." He said. Quickly, he outlined what had happened. I noted the scratch marks on his arm, some were rather deep, and there was a set of bite marks on his right forearm that I'm sure I was responsible for.  
  
"Oh Kurt – I'm so sorry-"  
  
He waved a three fingered hand at me. "Do not apologize." He smiled at me, and it left me momentarily dazzled. It was like the sun peeking out from behind a cloud. Sudden, tantalizing, warm. "I do not believe you were responsible for those actions."  
  
I sighed then, and said "Well, I still feel bad about it." I tried to shift, but the restraints held me fast. "Can you let me go please?"  
  
He deftly unbuckled me from the restraints, and I took a deep breath of relief. "Where are we now?" I asked.  
  
"The Blackbird." He said. "It is a jet, a private jet apparently. One that I believe I could pilot myself, if Logan would let me." He looked around. "It seems very familiar."  
  
"I'm not letting you anywhere near these controls Fuzzy." I heard Logan's voice come. "Not until you've gotten all of your memory back."  
  
I wanted to sit up and get a better look around. Experimentally, I tried to move on my own, and pain exploded through me. It was like someone had dipped me into acid from my crown to my toes, and I gasped from it, my breath drawn sharp and tight. "Please, don't move around." Kurt said. "I fear you may be injured."  
  
"We're almost there." Logan said.  
  
"Almost where?" I asked.  
  
"Xavier's." Came the cryptic response. I looked at Kurt, and he shrugged. "You'll be safe there."  
  
"Safe." I said. I hadn't even known that I was in danger!  
  
We were silent for the remainder of the flight. I gradually began to feel better, and managed to sit up on my own despite Kurt's protests. He handed me the glass of water, and I held it with shaking hands as the strength slowly began to return to my limbs.  
  
There was a ball of tension sitting in my belly, and it was gradually growing larger as we approached our final destination. What awaited me there? More importantly, what awaited Kurt? Was I sure I was with the good guys, and not the bad ones? Doubt gnawed at me, and slowly grew into fear. As we began our final descent, I found myself wondering if I was going from the pan and into the fire.  
  
We seemed to slow to a stop in midair, and then drift slowly downward. I've heard of planes that could do that, but I'd never been in one and it was a rather odd sensation. The was barely a bump as the Blackbird's tires set down on solid ground. Logan powered down the engines, just as the rear hatch was opening to let us disembark.  
  
Kurt helped me to my shaky feet, just as a young man with sandy brown hair and red sunglasses bustled into the cabin. "Logan! Just what the hell did you think you were-" he stopped short when he saw Kurt and I. His mouth worked silently for a moment. "Kurt!" he exclaimed. "Thank God your alright!"  
  
"Thank you, ah-" Kurt paused.  
  
"Scott." Logan supplied as he brushed past us. "C'mon. Let's get you guys into the infirmary."  
  
Scott looked at Logan, and then back to Kurt. "What's going on?" He asked softly.  
  
"Fuzzy here can't remember a damn thing." Logan said. He produced the butt of a cigar and clamped it between his teeth. I was beginning to think he couldn't function without one. "And the girl? I'll let them tell that." He said. I leaned heavily against Kurt, acutely aware that I must look and smell horrible, and then I realized that once again my illusion was gone. Was my control really that bad? I thought briefly about putting it back into place, and then decided to just forget it. It was one less thing for me to worry about.  
  
I took a few stumbling steps before Kurt finally hissed in irritation and scooped me up into his arms. I squeaked, surprised, and he chuckled as I threw my arms around his neck, eyes wide. "Relax." He said. "I won't drop you."  
  
"Sure, you say that now." I said. "But what happens when your arms get to tired to hold me?"  
  
"Then I shall carry you by sheer force of will alone." He said softly. Funny thing was, I believed him. He carried me as if I weighed nothing at all. We walked down the ramp, and into the hanger, which was rather large. I tried to look around, but felt my eyelids getting heavy. Was I really that tired? I sighed, and without thinking rested my head against Kurt's shoulder. I could look around later.  
  
I snuggled into his arms like a child, and closed my eyes. My fingers curled into the fringe of his hair, and I found myself playing with the curls as he carried me. I could hear his pulse, the rhythm of his heartbeat. It seemed like home to me, and I let it lull me into a half sleep.  
  
I murmured in sleepy protest when he set me down, my arms still firmly wrapped around his neck. He chuckled, a deep throaty rumble. "Morgan, let me go." He said gently. I sighed and with great reluctance released him and cracked my eyes open.  
  
I was sitting on a hospital gurney, in a room that looked like a cross between a hospital ER and some sort of experimental research facility. I couldn't even begin to think of what half of the machines in there did. There was a tall, beautiful red headed woman standing nearby, and a handsome bald man in a wheelchair. "Welcome home Kurt." The bald man said. His voice was just slightly accented, the kind that comes from high society, and old money. "We were very worried."  
  
"Ah, thank you, um" Kurt paused, and frowned.  
  
"Professor Charles Xavier." Logan supplied. He was leaning against the doorframe, cigar still clamped in his teeth. He looked a lot better when he wasn't pretending to be a chimney. "Kurt has partial amnesia Chuck." He said.  
  
The Professor nodded. "Yes, yes that makes sense. And welcome to you Morgan. I hope that you find your stay with us to be a pleasant one."  
  
I shifted. "How did you know my name?" I hadn't been out of it enough to have had someone say it and not hear it, had I?  
  
The professor pressed a finger to his temple. "We all have our gifts here."  
  
"A telepath." I said, and he nodded. "Well, I hope you don't make a habit of rummaging around unnecessarily."  
  
"Not any more than I have to." He smiled. "I respect a persons right to privacy."  
  
"Good to know." I said.  
  
"Hello," The red head said. "My name is Jean. I'd like to examine you, if you don't mind." She stepped forward with hand extended, and I shook it. My alabaster skin made her normal human paleness look tan.  
  
"You're a doctor, I assume?" I asked, and she laughed.  
  
"Yes. I am. I'd like to take a look at both of you, if you don't mind. Kurt?" she turned to him, and he simply nodded. She gave me a cursory examination, then pronounced me in good health. "Still, I'd like to run some psychological tests, if you don't mind. For the memory loss, and sudden change in behavior."  
  
I shrugged. "I already believe it's a similar phenomenon as what happened to Kurt. She must have used a bigger whammy on him though, because other than that one moment, I pretty much remember everything else."  
  
"Logan, can you show her to the guests rooms? I'm sure she'd like to get cleaned up-" Xavier began to say, but at a panicked glance from Kurt, I interrupted him.  
  
"I'm sorry Professor Xavier, but I'd really like to stay with Kurt." I said. "So far, you haven't tried to harm us, but that doesn't mean that your entirely friendly as of yet." I was being honest, but I felt it better to get it out into the open. "You'll understand if I'm a little paranoid."  
  
"Of course." Professor Xavier said. "You may remain, if you wish."  
  
Kurt gave me a grateful smile, and I found myself smiling back. Jean examined him carefully, raising an eyebrow at the scratches. "My fault." I said. "Apparently, I went a bit out of my mind. Kurt had to hold me back to keep me from hurting him, or Logan."  
  
Logan snorted. "Kid, I don't think you'd want to try to hurt me." I remembered the claws, and the ease in which he'd thrown Kurt, and nodded. The man oozed danger and a 'don't fuck with me' attitude that I didn't really want to come up against.  
  
"Well, they don't look to bad." She said. "They should heal up on their own, and I doubt there will be much of a scar. Still, we should keep them covered so they don't get infected." She cleaned them thoroughly, then smeared some greasy looking salve onto them before bandaging them up. Kurt's arms were bandaged from wrist to elbow on both arms.  
  
"Kurt, I'll give you both a chance to get cleaned up, and I would very much like it if you joined me for dinner." Professor Xavier said. "You too Logan. We are best to discuss this as a group. Logan, if you wouldn't mind showing Kurt back to his room? And perhaps we can get Ms Flannigan a room nearby..." the Professor wheeled himself out in his electric chair.  
  
"Sure thing Chuck," Logan said to the departing man's back. "Well, you heard the man. Follow me."  
  
I stood on shaky legs, taking a few experimental steps to see if I was up to walking. Kurt was at my side in an instant, but I shooed him away. Being carried was all well and good, but I wasn't going to let him hold me up in the shower! It seemed I was able to work under my own steam for the time being,  
  
We followed Logan through a maze of windowless tunnels, to an elevator. It was a short trip up, and then the door slid open. I felt my jaw drop at what I saw.  
  
My first assumption of old money had been dead on. As he led us through what I can only describe as a mansion, I suddenly felt very, very poor. The place positively screamed old American wealth. I could easily see the Vanderbilt's or the Rockefellers getting comfortable here.  
  
He led us down a hallway, and into an entryway with a rather grand staircase. Up the stairs we went, and down another hall to a doorway. This too let out into a set of stairs, and we found ourselves going even farther up. Down the hall in the opposite direction, to another staircase. This led to an extremely narrow hallway. "Servants quarters?" I asked.  
  
"Used to be." Logan said. "Now, it's just bedrooms. They've been enlarged, had bathrooms added. Besides, it was the only place we could fit Kurt's jungle gym."  
  
"Jungle gym?" I questioned, just as we reached a doorway. "Here you are." Logan said, and he opened the door.  
  
Kurt stepped in, and I followed him, looking around curiously. It wasn't at all what I was expecting. It seemed to be a standard bedroom, rather tastefully decorated. There were two circus posters, framed, both depicting "Das Unglaubliche Nightcrawler" in German, and then "The Incredible Nightcrawler" in English. I found it odd that Nightcrawler was the same in English and German. Either way, it was clearly Kurt, diving through the air from a trapeze. He looked extra devilish, and almost frightening in his expression.  
  
He walked up to the posters, and smiled. "Now this I remember." He said. "The spotlight was the only place I could truly be myself..." his eyes traveled upward, and his smile broadened. "Aha. Jungle gym."  
  
I looked up to see that his room had no ceiling. Or rather, the ceiling had been taken out and extended up to the very rafters. In a space that I was sure used to be an attic was now an elaborate tangle of pipes. Kurt immediately bamfed up into the center of the mess, perching on one of the bars. His toes gripped it surely as he crouched there, arms resting easily on his thighs. "I must live here." He said. "For this does feel like home."  
  
I smiled and felt myself relax a bit. He seemed right at home here, there was no doubt in my mind that this place had been made for him. "Well," I said uncertainly.  
  
"Go." Kurt said, and he swung upside down, hanging from the bar by two feet and his tail, which had coiled tightly around it. Even upside down, he still looked crouched, still rested his arms on his thighs. I was beginning to understand how all that muscle tone had come to be. It didn't even appear to be straining him at all. "Go, get cleaned up. I will be here. Then, we may have dinner with the Professor, and hopefully some things will begin to come clear."  
  
I hesitated. I really did want a shower-desperately!- but I was also concerned about him. "What about you?"  
  
"I'll be fine." He said, and made a shooing motion at me with his hands. I sighed, and followed Logan out the door.  
  
Logan led me a few doors down, and opened the door. It was a simple room, with a full size bed, a dresser, a small desk, and two doors, one of which I guessed was a closet, and the other a bathroom. 'Here ya go. This should do for now. As far as I know it's unoccupied."  
  
"Thank you Logan." I said. Then, I remembered I had nothing to wear. "Um,"  
  
"I'll see if Jean can't scrounge up something for you to wear." He looked me up and down, but not in a lewd way. More like he was trying to size me up. "I'm sure between all the women here we can find something for you."  
  
I was touched that he'd thought of it. It showed a depth of humanity I didn't think the man possessed. I cocked my head and looked at him, I mean, really looked at him. Beneath that gruff exterior, I was willing to bet, was a very very big heart. I had no doubt that the man had an astounding capacity for violence, but it also struck me that he had a sense of honor. He reminded me of a marine who had been a friend of my fathers; all hard and rigid on the outside, but on the inside, if you stroked him just right, you could almost make him cry.  
  
"Logan," I said, "If I wasn't covered in my own vomit, I'd hug you."  
  
Much to my surprise, he laughed. "Yeah well, I don't want the smell clinging to me all day." He said. "Get cleaned up. I promise there'll be something here for you to wear when you get out."  
  
He left me then, and I didn't hesitate. I peeled off the disgusting clothing I was wearing, fighting the urge not to throw up again. I left them in a heap on the bedroom floor and checked the doorway on the right wall. Lucky me, it was a bathroom. It was a bit larger than I had anticipated, and held a toilet, sink with a mirrored cabinet above it, and a rather large bathtub. It was completely tiled in white, and there was a blue rug on the floor in front of the tub. Clean towels were hanging from the towel rack that was bolted to the wall. Thick, white and long. I'd get to those later.  
  
On the counter of the sink was a small basket with shampoo, body wash, conditioner, a loofa, toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, dental floss, pretty much everything a girl could need short of a kitchen sink. I wondered how it had gotten here so fast, and for that matter how Logan had known which room to take me too. Then I remembered that the professor was a telepath, and probably had all of this set up the moment he'd first laid eyes on me.  
  
There was a white terrycloth robe hanging from a hook on the back of the door, so I wouldn't have to parade around in towels until my clothing arrived. I guess the really did think of everything.  
  
I fumbled with the faucet until I got it to the appropriate heat, the transferred the stuff I'd need in the shower onto a shelf inside of it. Then, I stepped in and let the hot water take me away. I scrubbed and scrubbed at me skin until it felt raw, convinced I would never get the smell off, then washed my hair twice. Finally I felt human enough (hell, I even shaved!) to exit the shower and get dry.  
  
I wrapped my hair up in a towel and dried off with the other one, then slipped on the robe. In the bedroom, someone had laid out a pair of blue jeans, a black baby doll T-shirt, and much to my surprise, a matching bra and panty set with the tags still on. Simple white cotton, but they were my size so I felt no qualms about it. I sat down on the edge of the bed, and let myself fall backwards. I laid there for a few moments with my legs dangling off the edge of the bed. I just wanted to rest for a few moments, and then get dressed.  
  
A knock sounded at my door, and I groaned. My back was a tangle of knots, and my legs were tingly. Had I fallen asleep? I must have, because it had become noticeably more dim in the room. I stood, pins and needles already beginning in my feet. "fraulien?" Came a familiar voice. "Morgan? May I come in?"  
  
"Come in Kurt." I said, and wiggled my legs, trying to get more feeling into them. I unbound my hair from the towel as the door cracked open and he stepped in.  
  
"You are just getting out of the shower?" He asked, surprised, and I laughed.  
  
"No, I fell asleep I think." I said. I stretched, and winced. "I must be more tired than I thought."  
  
"Ah." He said. "Well, I was thinking we could go down to dinner together," he said, almost shyly.  
  
"Sure, just let me throw these clothes on." I bent over to pick up the clothes off the bed, and he made a choked sound. I realized that my robe had gaped open and given him rather an eyeful. I looked up at him, and he was resolutely looking in another direction. I couldn't be sure, but I think he might actually have been blushing.  
  
A wicked urge filled me then. I am, after all, a woman. As a general rule, I don't consider myself to be a tease, but sometimes it's hard not to be. Kurt had quite obviously enjoyed the brief peek at my flesh he had gotten, and honestly I hadn't minded him seeing it.  
  
I ripped the tag off the undies, and slipped them over my feet, wiggling the white cotton up my legs, flashing a more than generous expanse of thigh at Kurt. He glanced my way as if he couldn't help himself. "I should wait outside-" he said. "No, then we can't talk!" I said. Of course, that forced me to find something to talk about. "So, did you do anything after your shower?"  
  
"I went through my drawers," he said, "Trying to find something that looked familiar." As he spoke, I took the jeans and slid them on. "There were a few things that jogged my memory, but-"he stopped short as I turned my back on him and dropped the robe to the ground. I retrieved my bra and slipped it on, then picked up the T-shirt and turned back to him.  
  
"But?" I asked, as I slid the black fabric over my head.  
  
"I, ah" he stammered. Then, in an abrupt puff of black smoke, he was gone.  
  
Damn.  
  
I'd messed up. I knew it the moment he vanished. What had I been thinking? Kurt probably wasn't used to being teased, because most woman wouldn't be able to get past the whole devil thing. But I didn't see that, I just saw Kurt. Funny, smart, irresistible Kurt. Then, I recalled how he'd caught me looking at him, and remembered the illusion, and felt even more horrible.  
  
I didn't bother to brush my hair. I just pulled it back into a pony tail with a holder I found in the basket, and went looking for him. I didn't have any shoes either, but chances are I wouldn't' come to a place in the house that I needed them.  
  
The first place I checked was his bedroom. He wasn't there. I wasn't familiar enough with the house to go wandering about opening doors and snooping into things, and I was willing to bet that Kurt didn't remember enough either. I tried to think for a moment, if I were him, where would I go that I could be sure no one would bother me, and I wouldn't bother anyone else. The only place I could think of was the roof, as it seemed to be the hardest place to get to.  
  
So how the hell did I get up there? I sighed, and walked down the hall, spying a door at the very end. I knocked, and when no one answered, turned the knob. It opened up to a rather narrow flight of stairs, slightly dusty with disuse. I walked up the stairs, fumbling for a light switch, and found myself in the attic. Amazingly enough, it was empty. Though the top floor didn't seem to be as dusty as the stairs. In fact, in one dim corner I spotted and old crate, a flashlight, and two or three bean bag chairs. Strange, but I decided to let it go.  
  
I wandered the length of the attic, inspecting the ceiling for some kind of hatch. Luck was with me, because I found exactly what I was looking for. I popped the hatch, and clambered out onto the roof. It was indeed dark outside, and stars spangled the sky like someone had dropped a bag of glitter on a velvet blanket. I'd never seen so many stars, and for a moment, I just stared at the sheer beauty of it. There was a large, dark void in one spot, and I knew it was the moon. It was new; not a sliver of white was showing, but it still managed to displace a great deal of stars.  
  
I sighed, and looked around the roof. It rose and fell, it's shingled self a bit more angled than I felt would be safe to walk on. I'd already committed myself to finding Kurt though, so I crawled out, staying low and trying to keep as close to the side as possible. My logic was the closer to the ground I was, the less likely I was to fall.  
  
I crawled up to the peak of this particular part of the roof, and looked around. Luck was with me, because Kurt was on this very length of roof, perched like a gargoyle right on the edge. I scooted down a bit, realizing I was making a good deal of noise in the process. His tail lashed, and he half turned to face me.  
  
"Please, Kurt," I said, "Don't go."  
  
He turned away, and I could practically see the tension in his body. "What do you want?" he asked tersely.  
  
"To apologize." I said. I managed to maneuver myself behind him. I sat, legs tucked underneath me, spine hunched and hands just barely off the surface of the roof. I made the mistake of looking down, and then snapped my eyes forward. What a time to find out I was afraid of heights. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable-"  
  
"Nein, you have nothing to apologize for." Kurt said. "I acted a fool, and escaped. I was-" he stopped, and shifted.  
  
"Kurt, I know very well what you were doing." I said. "Which is why I was doing what I was doing." I took a deep breath. "It's rare that a man looks at me that way, and sometimes, I can't see to help myself. I'm very sorry. It didn't occur to me that-" I paused.  
  
"What?" he said softly.  
  
"That you may not be used to a woman doing that." I finished.  
  
For a moment, he stared at me. Then he grinned, and turned to face me. "Morgan," he said, "I am used to that, and more." He said. "No, it was not your teasing that chased me out of the room."  
  
I was confused, and a bit upset that I'd climbed out onto this roof apparently for nothing. I sat up a bit more, and planted my fists on my hips. "Well then why-"  
  
Something shifted beneath me, and much to my horror, I felt myself beginning to slide. I yelped, and threw myself in the opposite direction of the slide. My hands worked to grip something, anything, but every shingle I grabbed seemed to come unstuck from the roof. I was going to fall, and if it didn't kill me, it sure was going to hurt like hell.  
  
Then Kurt was there. I felt his hand wrap itself around my wrist, and my descent downward halted. I grabbed his wrist with my free hand, my breath coming in sharp gasps. "Kurt, oh god."  
  
"Be calm." He said. Then, he drew me closer to him, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me into his arms. I felt a sudden lurch, and the world spun. My stomach roiled, and I felt my tongue swell, as if I were going to be sick. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, we were standing in my bedroom. I felt my knees try to give way, and Kurt held me fast. "Stay still. Teleporting can make you ill." I looked around, and the room was spinning. I shut my eyes again, and swallowed.  
  
"How can you stand that?" I asked. I could still feel the room moving even though we were standing still.  
  
"You get used to it," he said. I could feel his breath on my ear, the brush of his arms against mine, and those sensations helped to bring my stomach back from the edge. I leaned into him, letting my head fall back against his shoulder. I placed my arms over his, my hands on his, my fingers sliding to merge with his. It was awkward at first, but I found a comfortable position.  
  
Something snaked around my thigh, wrapping it's warm sinuous length around me. I felt the spaded tip of his tail brush against my calf. He shifted, and I heard him take a deep breath. I felt something soft brush against my neck, and realized it was his lips. I felt the fur of his cheek brush against my cheek, and it felt so much softer than then fur he had elsewhere. I shivered, feeling my body begin to respond to him, a warm rush of pleasure falling over me. My heart was racing, my breath was short, and all rational thought was slowly leaving me.  
  
I felt his lips brush against my neck, and the barest flick of his tongue against my skin that drew a gasp from my lips. His mouth burned against my skin as it traveled up the length of my neck. He laid kisses along my jaw, and my head turned to meet him. There was nothing else that existed for me but him, the feel of his arms, the smell of him, the touch of his lips. I ached for him, a pain so deliciously wonderful that I both wanted it to end, and wanted it to continue forever.  
  
My door banged open, and Kurt was gone in a swirl of black smoke. 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Don't own marvel, don't own Kurt, or any other x-men. Don't own the universe, but I DO own Morgan and Clan Flannigan.  
  
Thank you everyone for the great reviews! I know, I am truly evil with my cliffhangers, but honestly I feel those are the best ways to end chapters, or else they'd just go on and on an on. Besides, I think it makes it more interesting.  
  
For those of you who have requested I proof-read more, I have done so. In fact, this chapter went through four re-writes before I was finally happy with it. I hope you enjoy it! I'm sorry I don't have the time to do personal responses, but I wanted to get this chapter out of the way so that I could move on to the next one. Please review! :D  
  
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I stared stupidly at the doorway, my body crying out for the touch it had so abruptly lost. Logan stood there, claws out, crouched in the doorway. Fury swiftly overcame other emotional states. "Logan, what the hell-"  
  
"Shh." He ordered. He held a single claw up to his lips. "Thought I smelled something," his nostrils flared, and he cocked his head, eyes going to the bathroom door. He stalked past me, and kicked the door in just as Kurt came to the hall door. A rush of steam poured out, and I heard Logan curse. "Shit!"  
  
I saw enough to register what was on the bathroom floor. Then, I turned around and threw up for what I assume was the fifth time that day. It was bile, for I'd had nothing to eat, but that didn't make it any better. When my stomach was empty, I continued to dry heave. Distantly, I could hear Logan yelling something, and I felt someone's hands take my arms. I let them guide me out of the hallway, and then someone else's arms were wrapping around me. I shuddered, and buried my face in the offered shoulder, but it did nothing to get the image out of my head.  
  
What was laying on the carpet had been Ryan. His face was perfect, untouched, as clear as when I'd seen him just hours ago. The rest of him had been stripped to the bone, bits of flesh still clinging to the red- tinged skeleton that someone had left in my bathroom. His bones had gleamed wetly, white showing through the blood that coated them. It didn't seem real, it was too horrific to happen. How? How was it possible? I'd only been out of the room for twenty minutes at the most, how could someone have come in and done that without me knowing? And why?  
  
I closed my eyes, and could still see it. The tile was remarkably clean, like he'd been killed somewhere else, and left there for me to find. How could his blood still be so wet, so fresh, and yet there not be a sign of it anywhere else than on his bones? I felt my stomach roil, and I knew I was going to be sick again. I took a step back from the person and tried to stand on my own to legs, but they were shaking too badly.  
  
I slid down to the floor, numb. I just sat there shaking, trying to stop my mind from racing in little circles. Arms came around me again, and I clung to whoever was holding me like a leaf in a windstorm, and my legs weren't very capable of holding me up. Gently, they lifted me and distantly I acknowledge I was being carried.They took me a short distance and sat me down on something soft. "Morgan," Kurt's voice came to me distantly, and his hand stroked my hair softly. "Please, Morgan.."  
  
"Why?" I asked, and my voice was choked, strained. "How?"  
  
"We will find out together, Liebe," he said softly, "I promise you."  
  
I don't know how long we sat there in the darkness, holding each other. The room was quiet, and though I'm sure I was only a few doors away from where I had been before, I could hear no sound. It was as if only he and I existed in an endless void of darkness, and it helped me immensely to calm down.  
  
I realized that I was sitting on a bed, and I laid down. I was too tired to care who's bed it was, or if they would care. I just laid down, curling myself into a ball. I felt the weight on the bed shift, and Kurt was there too, curling his lithe body around mine, cradling me in his arms. I cuddled back against him, taking the comfort he offered with the warmth of his body and his softly spoken words. I do not remember what he said, only that they made me feel a little bit better.  
  
I woke up to the sound of birdsong, and in an unfamiliar bed. I yawned and stretched, opening my eyes blearily to see a strange tangle of metal above me. I was in Kurt's room. I looked around, and discovered I was alone in the bed. In fact, I was alone in the room.  
  
I remembered with clarity the body on the floor, Ryan's face, and instead of numb or sad I felt angry. I was positive that the person who had attacked me, presumablely Kurt, was the same person that had taken Ryan away from me. And if she had taken Ryan, that meant that she might be able to take my family too. I had to call them.  
  
I looked around, but I couldn't find a phone in Kurt's room. I was just hauling myself up out of bed when there was the tell tale sound of displaced air, and Kurt appeared in a puff of smoke at the foot of the bed. "Ah, you are awake," he said. "Das ist gut."  
  
"I need a phone." I said. "Quickly, Kurt, or else someone else could be-"  
  
"It was not Ryan." He said, and I blinked at him in surprise. "It was someone who was altered to look like him." He held up a sheaf of paper. "This is the DNA of the person who was killed, and he most definitely was not a mutant. Therefore, he can not be your friend." He handed the papers to me. "We know that he was not killed here. That he was butchered somewhere else. Then, it seems, someone teleported him in, and teleported out."  
  
"Teleported?" I asked, and my voice was shaking slighty.  
  
"Ja. I am not the only mutant with that gift. Though, I am the best." He said it with a smile, but I didn't feel like laughing.  
  
My hands quaked as I took the papers from him, and I leafed through them not even really reading them. It wasn't Ryan. It hadn't been Ryan. I was happy, near ecstatic with relief, but I was also even more angry. How dare she? Ryan was one thing, but she had taken a stranger, what's more, an innocent. Someone who wasn't even remotely involved in what was happening in the situation. And why had she done it? More than likely, as a warning. The more I thought about it, the angrier I became, until I was almost seeing red. I handed the papers back to him. "Phone. Please." My voice was tight, low, and his eyes widened slightly at the tone.  
  
He produced from his pants pocket a tiny, silver mobile phone. I dialed Ryan's number first. "Hello?" he answered, and I could already tell he was on edge. Yet I was so relieved to hear his voice I nearly wept from it. I kept repeating in my head, thank god, thank god.  
  
"It's me. Don't worry I'm safe." I said instead. I could tell him about his doppleganger later.  
  
"Morgan thank god! Where the hell are you?"  
  
"Not sure." Which was the truth. I had no idea if I was even in the same state I lived in. "Some very bad things have been happening. What's going on there?"  
  
"Officially? You've been kidnapped. Your Uncle's going nuts. The FBI threatened to lock him up if he didn't leave them alone, and he told them he'd investigate it himself then. He's got your brothers with him. Your dad is at home, waiting for your kidnappers to call." He paused. "You aren't just saying that are you? You haven't really been kidnapped?"  
  
"Ryan, I haven't really been kidnapped. I was attacked, and Logan and Kurt saved me. I promise. Look, listen, do me a favor. Go over there. My parent's house I mean. I'm going to call them now. Go fast Ryan, I've got a horrible feeling that you all may be in danger, and the sooner we get you all in the same place, the better I'll feel."  
  
"Morgan, what's going on?"  
  
"I'll explain later." I said. "Just, go okay? And pack a bag."  
  
"Yes Ma'am." He said. I heard a click as he hung up the phone.  
  
I dialed my parents' number, and was not surprised when it rang, and rang, and rang. They'd be recording this call, and they probably had to make sure everything was all set to go. Finally, someone picked up. "Hello?" My father's voice was calm and even. Usually that was the tone he reserved for when he was most angry, meaning that there would be hell to pay if you crossed him.  
  
"Daddy I haven't been kidnapped!" I said. Best to head that off at the pass.  
  
"Baby! Where are you? Are you okay? Who took you-"  
  
"No one took me." I said heatedly. "Look, I'm sure Uncle Pat told you about my special friend, Kurt-"I hoped he'd pick up on the special part. It's a code we'd used all of our lives for someone like us. Mutants.  
  
"Your new boyfriend." He said, and I knew he got it.  
  
"Yeah him. Look, I'm with him. I'm sorry I didn't leave a note, or didn't call, but, well, we kinda had to leave in a hurry."  
  
He gave a wry laugh. "So I saw. Your safe?"  
  
"Absolutely." I said.  
  
"What about your apartment? It's all torn up honey-"  
  
At this point, it was better to feign ignorance on this particular subject. "It is? Someone broke into my apartment? What did they take?"  
  
"Nothing, that we could see. Just threw things around like they were looking for something. Even your laptop is still there. You never go anywhere without that." He was suspicious.  
  
"Oh well, it was a spur of the moment kind of thing Daddy." I giggled. "Kurt wanted to take me on a little vacation, and he's just so charming I couldn't resist!"  
  
"May I speak with this Kurt person please?" he asked, and I blinked.  
  
"Um, sure. Hang on." I held the phone out to Kurt. "He wants to talk to you." I said.  
  
For a moment, he looked at me, and then nodded, taking the phone gently from my hand. "This is Kurt." I watched his face as he listened to what my father said. "No sir, I promise you she is perfectly safe." Another pause. "Ja, I am German." His eyes widened, and he gave me a pleased smile. "Ja sie ist ganz speziell. Ich manchmal Entdeckung selbst im Awe von, wie speziell sie ist. Ich denke, daß Sie ein sehr glücklicher Mann sind, eine Tochter haben so wundervoll wie sie in Ihrem Leben. In der Tat Sie müssen wirklich gesegnet werden, wenn Sie wundervollere Kinder." There was another pause as he listened attentively, and then I was shocked to see a faint purplish tint color his cheeks. What the hell had my father said to him? "Sir, I am shocked that you would speak of your own daughter that way." He said, and there was a wicked gleam in his eye. "However, I'm more than willing to discover that for myself." Then, he passed the phone back to me.  
  
My dad was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. "What the hell did you say to him?" I asked.  
  
"Oh, kitten," he said, "it's guy talk. Don't worry, the tape is off. The fed's want to see you, make sure your safe."  
  
"Well, that's not going to happen." I said. "Daddy, is anyone else listening?"  
  
There was a pause. "No hun, not anymore."  
  
"Dad, you may be in trouble. No questions, just listen. I've already got Ryan on the way over there. I need you to pack up the kids, and mom, and send them my way. I want to make sure that those that can't take care of themselves are safe."  
  
"You got it honey. I need to know where you are first though."  
  
"I'd tell you, but I'm not entirely sure myself. Send them out to that old motel on route 42. You know the place. I'll meet them there. Lets say, what time is it now?"  
  
'Noon." Kurt and my father said in unison. Well, at least I was in the same time zone.  
  
"Lets say by 2:30. I'll pick them up there."  
  
"You've got it. Your mom won't like being sent off without an explanation-"  
  
"Tell her not to argue, and do it because she loves me."  
  
We hung up, and I looked at Kurt. "We need to go pick up my family."  
  
He didn't ask why, he just nodded. "Food first." He said. "You haven't eaten in two days that I know of." I would have protested, but my stomach chose just that moment to grumble very loudly. "Then, we must talk to Charles."  
  
"Charles?" Last night it had been 'The Professor' and today it was Charles. I raised an eyebrow, and for the first time today, really looked at him. He was standing tall, straight, his shoulders up and head high. There was a sense of confidence about him, a self assurance that I didn't remember him having before. His expression, his eyes conveyed that same sense of confidence that I had never noticed. I knew immediately what had happened. "You remembered." I said softly.  
  
He gave a joyous laugh, and grabbed my hands. He pulled me off the bed and into his arms, lifting me up off the ground. I wrapped my arms around his neck and laughed as he spun me around, then set me gently to my feet. "It came back last night." He said. "Right there." He pointed to the bed. "I was holding you, and speaking to you, and it all started coming back to me in bits and pieces. And so I spoke of that. I talked and talked, until my throat was dry, and even after you were asleep, I spoke of what I remembered."  
  
I felt a sudden pang of guilt. "Kurt, I wasn't- I mean-"  
  
"You weren't listening." He said, and smiled. "Ja. But that's okay. Because you still helped me with it." He raised a thick finger, and smoothed back a lock of stray hair that had drifted in front of my eyes. Then, he trailed that finger down my cheek, and the line of my jaw. I felt a brief thrill up my spine at the unthinking intimacy of the touch. "You have helped me so much, Morgan. There is nothing I can ever do that will show how grateful I am."  
  
I felt my heart begin to hammer in my chest. He was so unbelievably handsome, I had no idea why more women didn't see it. Intelligent, considerate, funny, charming, there was no question of it. I was falling head over heals in love with him, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it. One of his hands had come to rest on my hip, and the other was gently cupping my chin. Even his fingers had a dusting of fur on them that sent tingles through me. There was a look in his eyes that was frightening in it's intensity, a mixture of passion, need, and something deeper, far more serious than I had ever expected to see. My arms were still safely around his neck, and I let my fingers creep up into the line of his hair. I wasn't about to let him get away this time. I wanted my kiss from last night dammit, and could care less about interruptions.  
  
His eyes slid closed as my hands tangled in his hair, and his lips parted in a soft sigh. I made a mental note that he seemed to like that, and drew his head down towards me. I felt his tail snake around my thigh, pulling me closer to him. I licked my lips lightly as I drew him ever nearer.  
  
When his lips touched mine, it was like smooth, warm silk caressing me. They brushed against me lightly, and I shivered, holding him tight. I felt them again, sliding across mine, and I kissed him back, my lips parting. His tongue brushed against my lips, and I parted them further, allowing him to dip into my mouth. I explored his, my tongue running over the fine, sharp edges of his canines. I made another mental note that kissing him carelessly could be dangerous.  
  
The kiss grew in intensity, became more heated. It seemed we fed from each others mouths. I sucked the tip of his tongue gently, and he moaned; his teeth grazed my lower lip and drew a gasp from me. My knees were weak, my head swum as I clung to him, breathless, my blood rushing in my ears.  
  
All too soon it seemed he pulled away, and it seemed to me his eyes were so bright they glowed. "Morgan," his voice rumbled through me like a train, it shook me. It was loaded with passion, promises of things to come, and I desperately wanted to silence it with another kiss.  
  
"Wow," I said instead. Reluctantly, I took two shaky steps away from him. He hesitated for a moment before letting me go. I opened my mouth to say something else, but it was hard for me to focus. "Wow," I said again.  
  
He grinned, and flourished a bow in my direction. "Thank you," He said, and I had a sudden urge to throw something at him, so I tossed a pillow from the bed his way. He snatched it out of the air easily and set it back down on the bed. Gently, he kissed the tip of my nose, and then took my hand. "Come, let's get something to eat, and then we can see what to do about your family.  
  
I sighed, and let him lead me out of his room. Oh, I was hungry all right, for more than just food. I spent the rest of the walk to breakfast fantasizing about how I could have my cake and eat it too, literally.  
  
Translation:: Yes, she is very special. I sometimes find myself in awe of how special she is. I think that you are a very lucky man, to have a daughter as wonderful as her in your life. Indeed, you must be truly blessed if you have more wonderful children like her. 


	8. Chapter 8

We had breakfast in Xavier's office. For me it consisted of a bagel and coffee, while Kurt and the Professor had a bit of a heartier meal. "I thought you would like to know why I'd sent Kurt out in the first place." Xavier said over his plate of eggs.  
  
Well, the thought had crossed my mind. "Yes, in fact, I was. I had assumed that it was because of the murders."  
  
"Until Kurt was attacked, we had no knowledge that they might be mutant related." Xavier said. "Of course, we had to know otherwise. We are willing to help the police with their investigation, as well as help in the apprehension of the murderer." He sipped his coffee. "No, the reason we sent him down there was because of you, Ms Flannigan."  
  
I paused in mid-bite of bagel, eyes wide. Me? What did they want from me? I removed the bagel from my mouth. "Ah, why?"  
  
"We were aware of your work, specifically your 'charity cases.' We wanted to know if you'd be willing to do a job for us, from time to time."  
  
"Why not just send me an email on it?" I asked. "That's what everyone else does."  
  
"Because this was an offer I wanted to have made in person." Xavier said. "you could have disregarded the email as a prank."  
  
Depending on the job, I could see that. "Okay, so what's the job?" I asked, and took a bite of bagel.  
  
"We would simply like you to keep us abreast of any mutant you delete from those files, and of course we would like a few of our own people removed. We would of course offer you a substantial amount for this information."  
  
I could agree with the latter part, but the former..."I'm sorry Professor, but I can not give you the names of the people I've removed from that list. How do I know I wouldn't be endangering them?"  
  
"I understand your hesitation. However, I assure you that our intentions are good. We simply wish to make contact, and see if they would consider coming to school here. I believe that mutants and humans can co-exist peacefully, Ms. Flannigan, and it's the purpose of this school to show how."  
  
That made sense. It added up with a few of the things I had witnessed myself. I still wasn't crazy about it, but at least now I had a reason to consider it. A lot of those kids had no one, no friend, family or parent they could turn to. If Xavier could help them, it might be worth it. "May I have some time to think about it?" I asked.  
  
"Of course." Xavier said. "Take all the time you need. This is an open ended offer."  
  
"Thank you." I said. I would consider it, but I wasn't sure how seriously. I had other things to worry about at the moment. "Ah, Professor Xavier, I was wondering-"  
  
"Scott is already getting the Blackbird prepared, Ms. Flannigan." Xavier smiled. "I expect you'll want Kurt to go with you."  
  
I nodded. "Yes please. It's not that I have anything against anyone personally, but-"  
  
"You don't trust us." Xavier said it with a smile. "That will come with time. Don't let me keep you, your family is waiting."  
  
I thanked him profusely as we left, and Kurt led me deeper into the house than I had ever gone. There was a small, wood paneled elevator that we took down to what I assumed was the basement. Only when the doors opened, I wasn't looking at dank stone walls but polished steel. The ceiling glowed with white light, and the floor was tiled in white as well. There were doors at regular intervals, and I wondered where they led.  
  
"Well, I wasn't expecting this," I said softly, and Kurt chuckled.  
  
"Most of the facilities of the school are hidden from the public eye. There's more to Xavier's than it's outward appearance." He said. He led me at a brisk pace down the length of the hall, where it forked. "We are a school, first and foremost," he explained as he led me through a maze of tunnels, "but there are other things that we do as well. Helping mutants, fighting the good fight, all of that."  
  
"The good fight?" I asked, and he nodded.  
  
"Ja. As you know, humans are of several different opinions about mutants. We have several different opinions about them. All of us here believe as the Professor believes. That is another reason why we are here."  
  
"That would be very nice if it could happen." I said. Racism in any form wasn't pretty, but like anything else, I didn't see it going away any time soon. "I don't think it ever will, but hey, you can always hope."  
  
"Ja." Kurt said. He opened a door and ushered me through it into a large hanger. It contained the jet that I hadn't had an opportunity to really look at yet.  
  
It was pitch black and sleek, with it's wings swept back at a sharp angle. The nose of the plane was sharply pointed, then flared out, like someone had taken an ace of spades and blown it up into three dimensions. It was smoothly curved, there were no straight angles to be seen anywhere other than on the wings and the tail. The plane was a predator, intimidating, and I was extremely grateful that the pilot was on my side.  
  
Kurt led me up the ramp, which was in the back of the plane. Scott was there, only he wasn't wearing those red sunglasses. Instead, he wore a strange black visor that seemed fit around his eyes rather well. Other than that, his mode of dress was rather normal. "We're just about ready to go," he said, "we were only waiting on you two."  
  
I expected to see Logan at the helm, but instead there was a tall, regal- looking black woman. She had startlingly white hair, long and flowing, as touchable as a cloud. Clad in a stylish blue suit, she smiled when she saw Kurt and the two embraced warmly. I felt a sudden pang of jealousy, and was so startled by that my surprise overwhelmed it. "Kurt, it's so good to see you!" She said. There was a faint accent to her voice, but I couldn't quite place it. "We were very worried."  
  
"Ororo! I was not expecting to see you!" His tail swished happily. "Are you coming with us?"  
  
"Scott thought it would be easier, with me along. I can conceal the jet long enough for us to pick up the family." She turned her attention to me, and smiled. "Are you not going to introduce me to your new friend?"  
  
"Ach! How rude of me! Of course," he blushed slight, and turned to me. "Morgan, this is my very dear friend Ororo. We also call her Storm. Ororo, this is Morgan."  
  
She gave me a friendly smile, and extended a finely manicured hand. I expected her to have a weak grip, girly, but was pleasantly surprised when she gave me a firm handshake. "I understand we have you to thank for returning Kurt to us."  
  
"Yes." I said. "Well, sort of. Ryan, my friend, he did all the work. All I did was pull him out of the trash." I laughed. "I wonder if they new how valuable he was when they threw him away?"  
  
"Another man's trash, is another man's treasure." Kurt intoned.  
  
I couldn't help myself. I smiled at him shyly and said "Or woman's." He flushed again, and despite myself I laughed.  
  
"On that note," Scott said, "Where are we headed?"  
  
"Back to my home town." I said. "Out on the edges, on route 42. There's an old motel there, and that's where my family is."  
  
"Let's get going." Scott said. He took a seat in the cockpit, along with Ororo, leaving Kurt and I to fend for ourselves. I sat down in a chair behind Scott, so that I could see Ororo and maybe chat with her during the flight. There was a strange harness I was supposed to use to fasten myself in, but I couldn't figure it out. After fumbling with it for a few minutes, Kurt finally rescued me and helped me out.  
  
"Here, there is a trick to it," he said, and took the straps out of my hands. "One arm here please," he said, and I slipped my arm into the loop of the strap. "The other here." I obliged him. They snapped together in the front, and the lap belt seemed to be in three pieces. "There. Now," he reached across me, and I felt his arm brush against mine. The velvety softness tingled against my skin. I could smell the shampoo he used this morning in his hair, and my fingers itched to run through it again.  
  
His tail came around and stroked the inside of my thigh lightly, and my eyes widened. I was suddenly very glad that his body was blocking Ororo's view. He turned his face toward me slightly and there was an impish gleam in his eyes. "These two straps," he said softly, pulling them up from the side of my chair, "Come together like this." He snapped them together, and I wasn't even paying attention. Instead, I was focused on the line of his jaw, his neck, the delicate tip of his ear. I licked my lips in an unconscious gesture. "And this strap," he reached between my legs, and I shuddered. Slowly, he pulled up a third strap, pressing it into place enough that I squirmed in my seat. "Comes here, Ja?"  
  
"Ja," I said distantly, and he chuckled. He fastened it into the bottom part, so that all of the straps came together in a five pointed star design. A five point harness, with one rather large buckle in the middle. "You press this button here," he pointed, "And all five straps come unlocked at once."  
  
His face was just inches from mine, and I believe that we would have kissed, if Scott hadn't said "If the lesson's over, I'd like to get going."  
  
"Ja, all done here." Kurt said, and slid back into his seat.  
  
Ororo was looking at me speculatively, and I felt myself blush. Frustrated in quite a few ways, I slapped my illusion back into place for the first time in days to hide the color in my cheeks. Her eyes widened a bit. "You are a shapeshifter?" she asked.  
  
Scott poked his head around the edge of his seat to look at me. I got the impression that he was raising his eyebrow at me, but with the visor taking up most of his face it was hard to tell. "I'm an illusionist." I said. "I thought you knew?"  
  
"I have told them nothing, Liebe, other than your name, and that you rescued me. Your gift is yours to share."  
  
That was the second time he had called me Liebe in the past twenty-four hours. I filed that away. I didn't want to ask what it meant in front of Ororo or Scott because I felt it might be a bit too intimate. "Oh." I said simply.  
  
The flight back to town took a little bit longer than I'd expected, and we were a half an hour late to the rendezvous. If we hadn't had breakfast with the professor, we probably would have been right on time. We parked the jet in a fallow field a short walk from the motel, touching down in a dense fog bank that Storm had produced. Not to be outdone, I cloaked the blackbird in an illusion, so that it resembled just so much empty field. Hopefully we wouldn't be here long enough to discover that wasn't the truth.  
  
"I will stay here." Kurt said. "I don't think your family would-"  
  
"I don't think so." I said. "You're going with me, because if I know my father, he's going to be there. And he's going to want to meet you. So let me just slap an illusion on you, and we can all go." Kurt blinked at me through the illusion I'd put on him, and nodded.  
  
"We will remain then." Ororo said. "Please, try to hurry."  
  
I took Kurt's hand, and we stepped out into the fog that Storm had produced. It didn't take long for the summer sun to burn it off, and we found ourselves within sight of the motel. I stepped carefully, because I didn't want to turn an ankle in a hole. It took us ten minutes to make it out of the field and onto level ground. We jogged the short distance to the motel, and I went into the lobby.  
  
A stooped old man sat behind the counter. I skipped up to him, still hand in hand with Kurt. "Hello! I have some family staying here, and I was wondering if you could-"  
  
"Back outside, four doors down on your right." The little old man said crisply. "And mind your volume. If you're staying, you'll have to get another room."  
  
"Oh we aren't staying. We just wanted to stop and say hello. Thank you!" I said, and dragged Kurt out before the man could say something again.  
  
I went down the four doors, and had barely raised my hand to knock before someone barreled out of it. My older brother Deacon scooped me up into his arms and crushed me in a bear hug. "Morrigan!" he rumbled. "Thank God you're alright!"  
  
"Where is she? Where's my little girl?" I could hear my mom's frantic voice.  
  
I bonked Deacon on the head. "Put me down, brute, and let me see my mother."  
  
He laughed and set me down on my feet. "This him?" With a jerk of his head, he indicated Kurt. I slipped my hand into Kurt's, and drew him a bit closer to me.  
  
"Introductions inside, Brutus, or else!" I threatened. Deacon shrugged and stood to the side, allowing us entry into the room.  
  
I was shocked to see that my parents, my uncle, and all of my siblings were there. Even Ryan was there, tucked unobtrusively into the corner near the door. It was a damn good thing none of us had managed to marry, or we wouldn't have all fit in the room. There were two double beds, one of which had my two youngest siblings, Deena and Riley, lounging upon it. They were twins, and it was clear just by looking at them that they weren't quite normal. Not because they were mutants, oh no, but because one had a shock of bright blue hair, and the other was sporting a bright neon green. Thankfully, those weren't natural colors.  
  
On the other double bed rested Gaelin and Daelin, another set of twins. Neither of them were mutants. They were older than me by two years, and were identical. Well, Daelin had a goatee, but other than you couldn't really tell them apart. Both had the same athletic build, which betrayed their profession. Cops. Along with Deacon and my uncle, they were a force to be reckoned with.  
  
Theresa was there, one of the few non-mutants. Still, she had the looks I'd always wanted; fiery red hair, bright green eyes, and a figure good enough to stop traffic. She sat on the dresser, legs dangling, and was already eyeing Kurt with a predatory look. Moirah had apparently been buried in a book, for now it dangled forgotten from her fingers. Absently, she pushed the glasses from the end of her nose back into place, and ran a hand over her frizzled black hair. She was slight, frail, and no one would have ever suspected she packed the most punch as a metamorph.  
  
Braden was leaning against the far wall. Dark, brooding, and every inch the artist. Braden was a dancer, and had a dancer's body. He'd been in several productions in New York, and I had it on good authority that he was in the process of choreographing his very first show. That he'd come down from that showed how much my disappearance had affected the family. He was younger than me by a whole year, and was my closest sibling.  
  
There was a gap of three years before Oliver and Olivia were born. Yet another set of twins. They had been sitting on the floor, on either side of the chair my mother had been occupying. She was dark, he was light, and one couldn't function without the other. They were so close, they even finished each others sentences.  
  
My father had been leaning on the wall next to the bathroom door, and had pushed himself away from it when I came in. He was tall, dark, and I suppose at one time handsome, though the years had worn on him. It was from him that many of us got our dark looks. My mother was tiny, pale, with now graying hair that was once a vibrant red. Her hazel eyes were full of concern as she raised herself out of her chair and held her arms out to me. "Morrigan! Oh, my little girl,"  
  
I went to her, and hugged her tight. "Child, what have you gotten yourself into?" She asked, and I laughed. I was surprised to feel my eyes fill with tears, and when I pulled back I saw hers had done the same.  
  
"Oh, you know, the usual." I said. I sniffed and gave another shaky laugh, then beckoned to Kurt. "Let me get this out of the way. Kurt, this is everybody," I went around the room and told him all the names of my siblings. Some looked suspicious, others curious, others simply disinterested. "Everyone, this is Kurt Wagner. He saved my life."  
  
"Kurt." My father nodded.  
  
"In truth, Herr Flannigan, Morgan saved my life first." Kurt said softly. "I was simply returning the favor."  
  
"You didn't feel the need to call us and tell us she was okay?" Daelin demanded. I raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
"I would have, ja, but I did not know how to contact her family." Kurt replied.  
  
"You could have called Ryan." Deacon rumbled.  
  
"I did not have his number either. We had to leave so suddenly, there was a tremendous amount of danger. I myself had been near death just the day before. It was only through Morgan's reactions, and her and Ryan's generosity that I managed to survive. I owe her a great deal, still."  
  
"You don't owe me anything." I said. "Any one of us would have done the same for you." I looked around. "Deac, do me a favor and clothes those drapes. I'm starting to get a headache form holding so many illusions." I could already feel a dull ache developing right behind my eyes. If I didn't do something soon, it would come into a massive migraine. I could create room size illusions with no problem, but splitting my attention between illusions that had to move with a persons movements, or change with the position of the sun was taxing.  
  
"How many are you holding right now dear?" my Mother asked me.  
  
I sighed. "Well, I've got one big one over our transportation, which we'll se in a moment. Then I have mine and-" my eyes flickered to Kurt, "his."  
  
Deacon closed the curtains, and I breathed a sigh of relief. My illusion poured off of me to pool at me my feet in a smoky haze before dissapating completely. I felt it was only fair to give my family a warning about Kurt. "Um, I don't want anyone to freak out about this." I said. "Kurt's a mutant, just like most of us, and his mutation is a lot like mine as far as affecting his outward appearance. He's a good man, and a good friend, and we have to remember not to judge by outward appearances."  
  
Braden snorted. "Since when has that ever been a problem with this bunch sis?"  
  
I nodded, and dismissed Kurt's illusion with a wave of my hand. I smiled at the face that I cared about so much, and he smiled back, exposing those elongated canines. I heard my mother's sharp intake of breath, and turned to look back at her.  
  
She was clutching her rosary close to her breast, a look of fear and surprise mingled in her expression. I knew she'd be the toughest one to convince. Kurt stood a little bit straighter, and flourished a bow at her. Much to my surprise, he took her shaking hand, and she let him. He stayed bent at the waist, and placed a gentle kiss on the back of her knuckles. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Flannigan." He said genteelly. "I can see that Morgan comes by her beauty quite honestly, for surely you are beautiful enough to dim the sun."  
  
Mother hesitated for a moment, before stammering "Thank you, ah,"  
  
"Kurt." He supplied patiently.  
  
"Kurt. Yes. Thank you." I could tell she wasn't sold on him yet. After all, the devil could quote scripture, and was well known as a false flatterer. I sighed again. It would be problematic, but it was going to have to wait.  
  
"Dad, we really need to get going. My friends have provided safe transportation for us, but we need to hurry. The sooner I get everyone tucked away safe, the better I'll feel." I shifted, and without thinking about it reached for Kurt's hand. I felt his warm, callused hand slip into mine and a bit of my tension ebbed.  
  
"Tell me everything." Pat said. It was the first time he'd spoken. "I need to know exactly what happened." Between Kurt and I we gave him all the details, and I was surprised when he handed me the folder I'd be perusing with Kurt and Logan. "That's what I was expecting you'd say. I can't guarantee that we'll be able to do anything-"  
  
"You don't have to." Kurt said, and there was an edge to his voice. "It would be better if we dealt with this. I fear that the local police won't be able to handle her, and we have a bit more oomph at our disposal than, ah"  
  
"Normal humans?" Ryan supplied. There was a gym bag slung over his shoulder. "It's fair enough."  
  
My dad caught me in a fierce hug, which made me let go of Kurt's hand. He whispered to me "if he hurts you, I'll kill him." I felt both annoyed and happy that he'd said that, for it revealed clear as day that he was well aware of our feelings for each other.  
  
"Daddy, if he hurts me, I'll kill him myself." I whispered back, and there was a round of chuckles in the room. Kurt gave me an inquiring look, and I simply shook my head. Sometimes it paid to have siblings with heightened hearing.  
  
"Well Kurt, do you think you can port people to the jet?" I asked, and he nodded.  
  
"Yes. Let's get going."  
  
I nodded. I only hoped none of my family got air sick.. 


	9. Chapter 9

The Blackbird was overcrowded with Flannigans. My mother, Deena, Riley, Theresa, and myself outnumbered the rest of the passengers. Ryan was there too of course, and the other mutants, but still there was an overwhelming amount of Irish. My mom was clutching her rosary and praying fervently, and I saw Kurt giving her concerned glances. She'd refused to be teleported, and had turned an ankle in the fallow field. It had swollen up rather spectacularly. I'd asked Ryan to heal it, but he said that she'd be fine in a few hours, and to put some ice on it. So that's what we'd done.  
  
The silence in the plane was oppressive. The only noise was the hum of the engines, the various beeps coming from the controls, and the sound of Riley's headphones. His head bobbed in time with the music, and I found myself wondering what on earth had let mom agree to him dying his hair that particular shade of green. He kept it short, and spiky. It looked horrible against his skin, and made me think of a giant leprechaun. He was dressed in a long sleeve thermal shirt, with a black T-shirt over it. The T-shirt had "The Violent Femmes" scrawled across it in what looked like white fabric paint. His jeans were those huge legged jeans that reminded me of a circus tent, in dark blue, and one pant leg had a flaming skull patch ascending it. The skull was on his thigh, and the flames extended all the way to the hem. He was wearing them slung low on his hips, and had a myriad of chains hanging from one side down just past his knees. They were thick, and heavy, and I wondered what they were for.  
  
I turned my attention to Deena. Her tongue flickered out briefly, showing the bright silver dot of the barbell she had going through her tongue. I blinked in surprise. There were silver hoops climbing up both of her ears, and at some point she'd gotten her nose pierced as well. Her hair was a lovely purple shade that actually went well with her skin. It was slightly spiky in the front, then fell in a smooth cascade in the back just past her shoulders. She was wearing a black tank top, bra straps showing, and over that a fishnet shirt. Her pants were of a similar style to Riley's, but they were pitch black, and had simple straps like suspenders that crossed behind her legs. The name came to me abruptly, bondage pants. They were covered in zippers and pockets, and accentuated the flare of her hips and the narrowness of her waist. She was growing up to resemble Theresa a good bit, and I was amazed that mom let her go around like that. Her makeup was heavy, dark, with thick black lines around her eyes, deep purple eyeshadow, and lipstick a deep shade of plum. She looked positively morose, but I knew better than that.  
  
"We're almost there." Scott said. "There's the school now." He pointed, but I didn't bother to look. I waited until we'd touched down in the hanger, then unfastened my harness. Kurt gave me a reassuring smile, then teleported out of his harness and to the back to open the ramp down. I heard my mother gasp. She'd grown pale, and I watched as she crossed herself. A surge of irritation rose in me, and I throttled it down ruthlessly.  
  
"Well, let's go." I said. I herded my family to the ramp and down into the hanger. Not surprisingly, Xavier was waiting there. My mom stopped short when she saw him, and my siblings just sort of milled about.  
  
"Welcome." He said calmly. "My name is Charles Xavier, and I'll be your host for the duration of your stay. Welcome to my home."  
  
"Professor," I said, "thank you for meeting us here."  
  
"It is my pleasure, Morgan."  
  
"Thank you very much Professor Xavier," my mother said stiffly. Oh boy, she was not happy at all.  
  
"Please, call me Charles, Mrs. Flannigan. Only my students stand on such formality." Xavier smiled winningly. "Please, allow me to show you to your rooms. I'll be happy to supply you with anything you may need."  
  
"Call me Margaret." My mom said. "You said students?"  
  
"Yes. This is primarily a school." Xavier said.  
  
"What kind of school?" Deena asked. She was standing on the balls of her feet, I could tell that she was nervous.  
  
"A school for the Gifted." Charles said. "A school for young people not unlike yourself, Deena Flannigan. Or you, Riley."  
  
That got their attention. I could almost see the wheels click into place for them. I knew they were having the same thoughts I had. I shook my head and chuckled to myself silently. If the professor was trying to recruit those two, he'd have his hands full. Both of them were metamorphs. Riley was somewhat limited in his choices. He was strictly animals, and of those animals, only herbivores. Deer, moose, antelope, horses, sheep, all of these were his territory. However, he could do a variety of half forms. When he was fourteen, on Halloween he turned himself into an honest to god minotour and went trick or treating . I thought my dad was going to kill him. Deena was the predator of the two. She had a tendency to prefer the great cats, and had even managed to take a form halfway between a lion and a person, but it had taken her three years to do it, and she couldn't hold it for very long. For her, it was all or nothing. It's very disconcerting, waking up with a panther on the foot of your bed. Both of them were practical jokers and smart alecs, and they usually created more chaos than a bull in a china shop. I pitied any school that ended up with them.  
  
"How did you know our names?" They asked in unison.  
  
Xavier tapped the side of his head with his finger, and said "I have a few gifts myself."  
  
The twins exchanged a glance, and I cringed inwardly. Maybe bringing them here hadn't been the best idea.  
  
We gathered up our luggage, and Charles led us out of the hanger, chatting amicably with my Mother. The twins fell in behind them with Ryan and Theresa after, and then Kurt and I brought up the rear. It took two trips to get us up the elevators, and Charles left us at the foot of the grand staircase in the foyer. "I'm sorry, but something's just been brought to my attention. I'm afraid I'm going to have to go take care of it now. Kurt can show you to suitable rooms." He said. "Dinner will be in about an hour, so you have some time to freshen up if you would like. Deena, Riley, if you like I can send some of my students by, and you can have dinner with them-"  
  
"Yes please!" The twins said in unison, both grinning broadly. Charles smiled indulgently and said a polite goodbye, leaving Kurt and I alone with my loved ones.  
  
"Well, alright then." I said. "Follow Kurt everyone." I saw my mom hesitate, then she gave herself a firm shake and followed him up the stairs.  
  
Kurt's tail was twisting and corkscrewing absently, and I chuckled. He led us to the second floor, then down the hall to the third door on the left. "I think the twins will be comfortable here, I hope they don't mind sharing."  
  
Riley shrugged. "Nah. We share a room at home. It's kinda weird when she's not there with me, ya know?" he slunk into the room, duffel bag slung over his shoulder.  
  
"Though it's nice sometimes if I don't have to deal with his snoring," Deena whispered to Kurt. Then, much to my surprise she put his arms around his neck and hugged him, then gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "And that's for saving my sister." She said, then giggled. "Furry!"  
  
She left him standing surprised in the hallway, and shut the door firmly behind her. There was a pause, and then I heard her squeal with delight "We have our own bathroom!"  
  
I smiled at Ryan and my mom. Ryan was leaning against the wall, hands buried deep in his pockets. The strap of his gym bag was across his chest, and he looked tired. Mom was practically wringing her hands, she was so nervous. I'd never seen her this wound up before, and it worried me. Mom ended up in the room across from my siblings, and she went in so fast I could feel the wind of her passing from six feet away. Theresa heaved a great sigh and said "I'll stay with mom Kurt. She needs someone I think." I gave her a grateful glance and made a mental note to find her a fabulous christmas gift.  
  
That just left Kurt, Ryan and I. I glanced from one, and then the other. There was a tension there that I didn't remember being there before. It may have had something to do with how Ryan was looking at me. It was heated, almost sultry, like he wanted me all over again. It had been a very long time since he'd looked at me that way. For a long time, I'd longed for that look. Now, it just made me sigh.  
  
Kurt was looking a bit uncomfortable, a bit lost. He kept casting furtive directions in my direction. Finally, to break the silence, he said "Well, time's wasting. Let's get you to your rooms, shall we?"  
  
"Yeah." Ryan said softly. He pushed himself away from the wall, and we followed Kurt. "Thanks Kurt," He said, when we stopped in front of a door three down from my mothers. He opened the door, and stepped into the room. "Morgan, would you, ah." He paused awkwardly. I saw Kurt go rigid, that brave, confident mask already sliding into place.  
  
I closed the distance between Kurt and I and slipped an arm around his waist. Gently, I rested my head against his shoulder, and kept my eyes on Ryan. Kurt hesitated for only a moment before slipping his arm around my shoulders. His tail brushed against the small of my back lightly, and I nearly shivered. "No thanks, Ryan." I said. "I've got other arrangements."  
  
Ryan stared for a moment, then blushed and scrubbed a hand through his sandy blonde hair. "Well, shit." He said. "I blew it huh? All this time, you were right there. Now that I'm seeing it, it's too late." He gave a rueful laugh.  
  
And then I knew what he was talking about. I disentangled myself from Kurt, and hugged Ryan. "Ry, sweetie, you are NOT in love with me." I said.  
  
"But-"  
  
"No." I pressed a finger to his lips firmly. "You are not in love with me. You are scared of losing me, and that's making you feel a bit more strongly than usual. Hun, you're an empath. You should know the real thing when it hits you."  
  
For a long moment he simply stared at me. His eyes flickered to Kurt, and widened a bit. Then, he nodded. "Your right. Of course your right, Morgan. You always are." He hugged me back, and the tension I'd been feeling before suddenly evaporate. Now, we were just three friends. "I'll see you at dinner." He said, and stepped into his room, shutting the door behind him.  
  
Kurt raised an eyebrow at me. "Arrangements?" He asked slyly. I blushed, and tossed my suitcase at him. I was lucky that my parents had thought to pack some of my old clothes for me. Apparently, my apartment was still under police tape, and the FBI wasn't letting it go easily.  
  
"Make yourself useful, and carry that." I said teasingly.  
  
"I can carry more than that, Fräulein Flannigan," he grinned impishly at me, then transferred the suitcase from hand to tail. I had a moment to realize what he was up to when he charged at me, slinging me over his shoulder and bounding down the hallway in a surprisingly smooth lope. I must have screamed, or made some kind of noise, because I saw my sister's head poke out the door. She saw what was going on, and I saw her grin broadly as we dashed past her.  
  
"Give him hell sis!" She crowed, and I was absolutely mortified. My little sister! Then, she vanished from view as we rounded a corner and ascended the stairs. He carried me that way all the way to another room a few doors down from his, and slid inside. Gently, he set me down on my feet, holding me steady as I got my bearings.  
  
I looked around the room, and shivered. "Kurt," I said, "did they ever find out how that body got into my bathroom?" "Nein." He said. "We've increased security, and we've been trying to find the identity of the man, but what we have isn't matching anything in the FBI's missing persons reports."  
  
I shivered again, and wrapped my arms around my self, rubbing them nervously. "Kurt, I don't want to stay in this room." It was too much like the other, and frankly, I don't think I was up to being alone.  
  
"Well, we could find another room," he said, then offered uncertainly, "or, you could stay with your mother-"  
  
I shook my head. "No, that would just be putting her in more danger. No Kurt, that won't work." I paused. "Could I stay with you?" I asked. "You seem capable of handling yourself, at the very least you'll be able to get away, and it would make me feel better, knowing you were there."  
  
He stared at me seriously for a moment. "Morgan, are you sure that is a good idea? I mean, your mother, she-"  
  
"I don't care." I said. "I'll sleep on the floor. I just don't want to be alone right now." Frankly, if my mom didn't pull it together soon, she and I were going to have to have a rather long, extended conversation. But for now, I just wanted to feel safe, and the only time I felt safe was when Kurt was with me.  
  
Slowly, he nodded, and picked up my suitcase. "Ja, well, then I suppose you may stay with me. Though, for the record, I'll be the one sleeping on the floor." He grinned. "At least, we'll know I'm sleeping there. Who knows what everyone else will think?"  
  
"I don't care about that either." I said. "Now, let's go back to your place." He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at me lasciviously. I laughed and let him lead me out the door and back to his room.  
  
He cleared a spot on top of his cluttered dresser for my suitcase, and put it there for me. "Mein Haus ist Ihr Haus, Liebe," he said, "Bitte, make yourself at home."  
  
I plopped down on the bed, and sighed. "Don't mind if I do."  
  
He rummaged around in the dresser, and retrieved some clothing. "I really need to take a shower," he said, "Will you be okay on your own?"  
  
"I'll be fine Kurt." I said. "I'll just take a nap or something. Sleep is such a wonderful thing."  
  
He smiled, and vanished into the bathroom. I kicked off my shoes and stretched out on his bed-it was soft, and covered in blankets and pillows. Very non-masculine, but still very Kurt. It occurred to me he may not have much in the way of luxuries when he was younger, and that sometimes people liked to indulge themselves in certain ways. I slipped under the covers, and snuggled deep into the pillows. They smelled like him-a deep, musky, slightly sulfuric scent that thrilled through me. I sighed, and drifted off into dreamland.  
  
When I awoke, I couldn't hear the water running anymore. The light from the room's single window had shifted, pooling in a golden square on the foot of the bed. I stretched, allowing myself to come to full awareness slowly. It was nice, because I hadn't been able to do that for a few days. I threw the covers off, and swung my legs to the floor, yawning slightly.  
  
Kurt padded out of the bathroom, hair still dripping wet, with a smile on his face. There was a white towel around his shoulders, which he was using to mop his wet curls. He was wearing simple blue jeans, and I could see the waistband of his boxers over the waistline of his jeans. I was beginning to think he was using that look deliberately, for there were few things that could make me more weak in the knees than a partially clothed man that I'm attracted too. Even the body wasn't important. He could have been as soft and squishy as a sponge and I still would have wanted him. The fact remains though, that he wasn't, and I immediately had all sorts of naughty thoughts running through my head as soon as I clapped eyes on him.  
  
Kurt stared at me for a moment, then through back his head and laughed. It was a rich sound, infectious, and I found myself giggling along with him even though I had no idea what was so funny. Finally, I had to ask. "What is so funny?" I asked, still giggling.  
  
He shook his head. "Morgan, it has been a long, long time since a woman has looked at me like that, and I've been able to trust her motives for it." He said, still chuckling a bit.  
  
"Like what?" I asked.  
  
He searched for the right way to say it, then chortled "Like I'm on the menu."  
  
It took a moment for what he said to sink in, and I felt a rush of heat to my cheeks. I was exceedingly grateful for the illusion that hid such things from him. Had I really been looking at him like that? Oh there was no doubt about it now, we knew that we were attracted to each other, that their might be something more, but the sexual tension was so thick in the room that moment that I don't think it could have been cut with a chain saw.  
  
I didn't just want him. Oh no, in the span of heartbeats it took for me to rise to my feet, I needed him, the way I needed air to breath, or food, or water. Without him, I felt surely, surely I would die from it. I had to touch him, to roll the thickness of his hair between my fingers, feel the silken touch of his flesh against mine, feel our bodies press together, flesh melting to become one perfect person for one shining, bright moment.  
  
I'd actually taken a few steps toward him when someone knocked on the door. I stumbled, eyes wide, heart pounding. Sweet Goddess, what was happening to me? Kurt was looking at me intently, his expression dark and hungry, and it made me shiver with delight.  
  
I closed the distance between us and threw myself into his arms, pressing my lips to his, stealing the brief moment before he went to open the door. His arms crushed me to his chest, squeezed the breath out of me as I clung to him, desperate, wishing we had just a few moments for ourselves, for each other.  
  
The knock on the door sounded again, and with great reluctance, he extracted himself from my grip. He held me firmly at arms length, and said in a breathy, shuddering voice "Don't move. Not an inch. I'll be right back."  
  
I giggled, and trotted back to the bed, fully pleased that I know had confirmation that I affected him as much as he affected me. He paused before his door, rolling his shoulders and taking a deep breath as I brought my legs up on the bed and crossed them. Then, he opened the door. He used his body to block the doorway, effectively hiding me from view. "Mrs. Flannigan," he said, a bit too loudly. "What a pleasant surprise."  
  
I swore internally. I loved my mom, I did, but I was not ready to confront her on how I felt about Kurt. Seeing me in his bedroom, with him half naked and my suitcase on his dresser would NOT be a good thing. I concentrated, throwing a light-bending illusion around myself, and my suitcase, effectively rending us invisible. Oh we were still there, it's just the particles of light in the air weren't hitting us anymore.  
  
"Mr. Wagner," My mother said formally, "I'm very sorry for bothering you, but I simply had to speak with you. May I come in? It's rather urgent."  
  
"Well, I-"Kurt glanced in the room, and nearly did a double take when he didn't see me. "Ah, yes. Please Mrs. Flannigan, come right in. Just let me grab a shirt, one moment." He went to his dresser and pulled out a black T- shirt, slipping it on as my mother came in. She closed the door behind her, hand pausing on the handle for a moment.  
  
"Mr. Wagner, let me get right to the point." She said brusquely. It was almost a 180 from the nervous Nelly I'd helped off the plane.  
  
"Please, call me Kurt." He said. "Would you like to sit down?"  
  
"No, that won't be necessary. I don't plan on staying long." She said. Then, she smiled, and it was a smile full of malevolence. It was utterly, utterly evil, and chilled me down to the very bone. It was a look I had never expected to see on my mothers face. "We have unfinished business, you and I," she said, in a voice that was as unfamiliar to me as the arctic cold.  
  
She pointed a finger at him, and made a downward slash. I saw his body jerk, and blood sprayed across the room. My vision narrowed to my mother's face, a line of splattered blood running diagonally across her face, her small pink tongue flickering out to taste it. Dimly, I heard a woman screaming, and realized with growing horror that it was me. 


	10. Chapter 10

Kurt was looking at my imposter-mother with mingled horror and confusion. His tail lashed, and abruptly he vanished in a puff of smoke, only to reappear behind her, tail snaking around her neck, attempting to wrench her arms behind her back. Her gaze flickered to me, and I felt a burning sensation across my cheek. I gasped, clapping hand to cheek and was surprised when it came away bloody.  
  
"Let me go, loverboy," the imposter purred, "or I'll slit your pretty little girlfriend's throat."  
  
I felt myself grow cold. I had absolutely no doubt that she could do it. I watched a cloud of smoke form around her, then felt his arms around my waist. There was a lurch, and suddenly I was standing outside on the grass. My stomach heaved, and I dropped to my knees, trying desperately not to throw up. "Get the others." Kurt said. Then, he was gone again.  
  
Later, I would wonder why he hadn't just ported himself and her somewhere else, but at that time I could only think of one thing. Whoever that was, it wasn't my mother. Which meant something awful had happened. I lurched to my feet and stumbled toward the front door of the mansion, praying it was unlocked. I slammed the door open and skidded into the foyer, letting it swing in the wind as I bolted up the stairs and down the hallway.  
  
I didn't bother to knock, I simply burst into my sister's room, calling out for her and my mother. Mom was no where to be seen, and Theresa was a crumpled up on the floor. With a cry of horror I fell to her side, sobbing, fingers searching desperately for a pulse. There wasn't a mark on her, and I couldn't imagine she was dead. I found the pulse on her neck and cried with relief as it surged strongly against my fingers. Gently, I examined her, and found a huge knot on the back of her head.  
  
"Morgan?" I heard Deena behind me, and heard her curse lowly. "Hey, help!"  
  
There was a sudden flurry of activity; I could hear people rushing up the stairs, shouts, calls for asisstiance, and then Jean was there. "Morgan, what's goin on? What happened?" She asked.  
  
"Kurt!" I gasped, and rose unsteadily to my feet. "Sweet Goddess, she's here! The killer! She's got Kurt!" I went for the door, and ran smack into Logan. "Logan, Kurt-"  
  
He gripped my arms firmly. "Morgan, calm down. We'll get her. I want you to stay here with your family, okay? You're just going to get in my way otherwise."  
  
I nodded dully. I had to help Kurt! But Logan was right, and I knew it. I wasn't a fighter. I watched as he shared a look with Jean, and she gave a slight nod. Then, he was gone, just like that. I went back to my sister, sitting down next to her, taking her hand in mine and holding it. Where was my mother? I shook my head, I wasn't going to think about that now. One step at a time.  
  
I heard a loud crash, and the whole house shuddered. Footsteps that had been coming up the stairs suddenly turned and went the other direction. I saw Deena take a step toward the stairs and said "Deena, Riley, get in here."  
  
They both groaned and came in. Ryan? Where was Ryan? As if the very thought conjured him, he slipped into the room and closed the door firmly. "Please, let me," he said, coming to kneel beside Theresa, and removing Jean's hands. I watched his eyes slide closed, his brow furrow with concentration. "She'll be fine." He said softly, "just let her rest for an hour or so, and she'll be right as rain".  
  
A shadow flitted past the window, and I turned to see a woman fly past it. I rushed to the window, thinking I might be seeing the true face of the murderer. Down on the lawn, I saw bits of rubble, and the petite blonde that had tried seducing me was standing in the middle of it. Kurt was sprawled off to the side, I could see he was dazed. Logan was approaching Candy, claws out. I didn't see Scott or Storm.  
  
The woman who was flying balled her hands into fists, and dove directly for Candy. I noted distantly that there was a thick white streak at the front of her dark, reddish auburn hair. Candy held up a hand almost negligently, and the woman stopped as if she ran into a wall. She was propelled backward, in the direction of the window I was standing it. At the very last moment I ducked, feeling glass rain down on me as she crashed through the window and bumped the ceiling.  
  
"Oooh!" I heard her say. "She's gonna be sorry she did that!" the woman had a deep southern drawl, like honey and molasses.  
  
"Rogue, do you need some help out there?" Jean asked.  
  
"I can't get close to her." Rogue said, landing gently on her feet. "She sees me coming a mile away and next thing I know I'm flying through the air in the opposite direction. Only person that's managed to get close so far is Kurt, and he's bleeding like a stuck pig. Better call out the reinforcements."  
  
There was a reddish flash from outside, and I looked to see Scott had joined the battle. Wolverine was standing stock still, I couldn't tell why, and Kurt was no where to be seen. A man in a brown trench coat darted out the front door, and tossed something bright and glowing in Candy's direction. She didn't see it coming, and it erupted with a loud bang, sending her flying backward.  
  
"Pardon me, sugar," Rogue said. She tapped me on my shoulder, and I stepped aside the window long enough for her to fly through it again. I watched her descend gracefully to the earth.  
  
I couldn't just stand her watching. I had to do something. That bitch knew what happened to my mother, and I wasn't about to let her get away with it. Anger flared through me, heated my blood and clouded my vision. I turned on my heal and stalked out of the bedroom, past a very startled Ryan and a speculative Jean. Deena and Riley were looking at me with wide eyes. I could feel power crackling down my skin, my hair stood on end. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror hanging above a table in the hallway.  
  
I gaped at my reflection. Color swirled on my skin, shifting, a rainbow of light that shimmered like glitter. My lavender eyes glowed, my hair shifted in a breeze that didn't exist. Still the heat was rising, I felt like something was trying to burst it's way through my skin.  
  
This wasn't getting me out there. I gave myself a shake and ran down the stairs and out the still open front door. Rogue was in the air again, Kurt in her arms. From the looks of things, he'd been tossed there and she'd caught him. The man in the trench coat was dodging a bolt of what appeared to be fire being shot from Candy's hand, and Scott was frozen just like Logan. Neither of them were moving so much as a hair.  
  
Pain flared through me, intense, searing, a pressure began to build in my skull. I cried out, falling to my knees there on the steps, body shuddering. My skin physically rippled-it was no illusion that caused it. I would have stared in wonder, but I was too busy writhing in agony to be awed by what was happening to me.  
  
I shrieked, long and loud, the pain overwhelming. I felt like I was dying, drowning, burning, as something burst free of my skin. A fine liquid sprayed outward as my clothes fell in soggy shreds from my body. I lay gasping on my side, trying to catch my breath, my heart hammering, my senses overwhelmed as if I were seeing everything for the first time.  
  
The rich smell of the earth was the first thing I noticed. Deep, musty, full of the promise of growth. I could taste the wind, the rain, the storm that I knew was rolling in from the west. It stirred, bringing new scents. I smelled something acrid, a new instinctively what it was. Fear. Along with that, came other scents that I could tag with emotions, anger, rage, uncertainty. Blood. I smelled blood thickly, could taste the coppery sweetness of it on my tongue.  
  
My eyes snapped open, and everything seemed so much more clear. Colors brighter, edges more sharp, as if I'd been given new eyes to go along with my new nose. I was disoriented, and tried to sit up, but my limbs didn't seem to want to work right. I growled with frustration, and lurched upwards onto my paws-  
  
Paws?  
  
For the first time I looked at myself. I looked at as much of myself as I could see. My front legs ended in large, broad, canine like paws. I turned my head and looked down the length of my body, and saw that it was rather canine-like. The whole of me was covered in a thick, snow white fur. I saw Riley come skidding to a halt in the doorway, shock and surprise evident in his expression.  
  
"Morgan? Is that you?" He grinned, and then laughed abruptly. "Well, I guess sometimes there's just no escaping your birthright, is there?"  
  
I opened my muzzle to speak, and emitted a series of growls and yips. Oh, lovely. I was my father's daughter all right, I wagged my tail, and turned my attention back to the battle at hand.  
  
Rouge was locked into a death grip with Candy, her fingers extended, trying desperately to make contact with Candy's skin. Scott, Logan, and now the man in the trench coat were all frozen in mid action. Kurt was laying prone on the ground, with frighteningly large slashes of red covering his skin.  
  
I felt the fur on my shoulders and neck stand on end. I growled, long and low, and then lifted my muzzle and howled. I dashed down the steps, my new body moving faster than I had thought possible. I actually made it all the way to her, and attempted to sink fang into her leg. I yelped in pain as my teeth encountered a substance more like steel than flesh. She aimed a kick at my ribs and I sailed a few feet away, landing somewhat hard. I heard something snap, and felt a stabbing pain in my ribs.  
  
Kurt stirred, head raising to look at me blearily. I was only a few feet away. Whimpering, I crawled doggy fashion over to him, licking his face urgently. "Morgan?" he asked, and I nodded. "What happened to you?"  
  
I yipped at him urgently, then turned my gaze back to the battle. Candy had twisted out of Rogue's grip, and now had the woman pinned face down on the earth. I whined again. Kurt turned and looked, eyes widening. Then, they narrowed. "I've had quite enough of her I think." He said flatly.  
  
In a puff of smoke, he was gone. I coughed, the sulfuric smell even worse as a wolf. Kurt appeared behind candy, grabbed her by the hair, and vanished. He reappeared a few feet away and vanished again, and again, and again, and again. I lost count at the number of time's he vanished, never knowing where he was going to appear again.  
  
Candy threw up rather noisily, and still Kurt ported her. The frozen men lurched suddenly back into action, standing in confusion in the front yard. After a few more teleports, Kurt finally stopped, shaking violently, dropping Candy to the earth. She lay prone, unmoving.  
  
Kurt took a few steps away, and then collapsed to the ground, limbs twitching, chest rising and falling a bit to rapidly for my taste. I struggled to my feet and trotted over, wishing I had my hands again so that I could examine him.  
  
I felt a cool rush, like water against my skin. There was the feeling of something popping back into place, and suddenly I was me again. I was naked, and I didn't care. The pain in my side was gone, and my skin was wet, slick to the touch. I pulled Kurt into my arms and held him close to me, feeling his body still shaking. "What's wrong with him?" I turned panicked eyes to Logan.  
  
"Exhausted. Porting is draining, moreso with a passenger, and he did a lot of it just now." He produced a slim, silver, serpentine like cord from his pocket, and deftly clipped it around Candy's neck. "That'll take care of her."  
  
"Is she dead?" I asked, worried. If Candy was dead, then I'd never know what happened to my mother. I felt fabric brush my shoulders, and turned to see the trench coated man slipping his trench coat around my shoulders. For a moment, I was caught by his eyes. The irises were red, and the rest black as coal.  
  
"Unconscious more like." Logan said. "C'mon, lets get you all back inside."  
  
I balked when Rogue came to take Kurt away from me, but reluctantly let her. I hovered anxiously as we went inside, Logan carrying Candy, the rest bringing up the rear. "We have to take him down to the infirmary, Sugar." Rogue said. "Get him stitched up."  
  
"No." I said, and started frantically yelling for Ryan. I heard a clatter, and he nearly fell down the stairs to get to me. When he spied Kurt, he wordlessly nodded and took his head in his hands. I heard someone curse as the cuts began to vanish from Kurt's body, only to appear on Ryan's.  
  
"Bed." Ryan ordered, and wobbled. "He needs sleep."  
  
"But-"the trench coated man began to say.  
  
"You heard the man Cajun." Logan said.  
  
"Rogue, take Kurt up to his room." Scott ordered. "I've got to notify the professor of what just happened. Logan, Gambit, your on guard duty. Take her down and lock her up."  
  
"Where is the Professor?" I asked Rogue as we ascended the staircase. Riley and Deena followed close behind.  
  
"He had to go to Washington for a meeting." Rogue said. "He'll be back soon."  
  
I paused at the top of the stairs, torn between caring for my sister, or caring for Kurt. It was a testament of how strongly I felt that I was even having the quandary. Deena took my hand and squeezed it gently. "Go, take care of Kurt. We'll stay with Tessa."  
  
I gave my little sister a grateful smile, and followed Rogue. We went up the stairs to Kurt's room, and Rogue tucked him into bed, all the while I hovered over him. I toweled the remaining goo off of me as best I could, and slipped into some clothes, then pulled up a chair next to the bed. I wanted to be there when he woke up. Rogue gave me a sympathetic look, and exited wordlessly.  
  
I sat down and rested my head in my hands. I wanted to scream, to cry, and to pass out all at once. I settled for crying, burying my face in my hands and letting the tears come. In short order, I was sobbing into my hands, trying to muffle the sound as much as I could.  
  
It was too much. It was simply too much for me to deal with. Ever since Kurt had come into my life, my world had been turned upside down, and not for the better. My mother was missing, my sister was hurt. He'd exhausted himself to the point of near death, and this psychotic, murderous bitch had grudge. To top it all off, I'd manifested a new gift. Woo. Lycanthropy, just like dear old dad. I knew that I should call my father, but I couldn't bring myself to pick up the phone. I was wrapped in my misery, and couldn't seem to shake it.  
  
The only good thing in the whole mess was Kurt himself. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that what I was feeling now could rapidly develop into full blown love. I had it bad, and I wasn't about to let it go. If being with Kurt meant having my life turned upside down on a near constant basis, would that be something I'd be able to handle?  
  
I felt something warm brush my hand, and peeked through my fingers to see a very sleepy looking, very concerned Kurt peering at me. "Liebe? Are you well?" he asked me, and his voice was shaky. I spilled out of the chair and onto the bed, melting into his arms and feeling them encircle me.  
  
"Kurt, I was so worried," I whispered, and buried my face in his chest. He stroked my hair and soothed me sleepily. I realized he'd called me Liebe again, and blurted out, "What does that mean?"  
  
"Hmm?" He sounded as if he were still a little bit out of it.  
  
"Liebe." I repeated awkwardly. "What does that mean."  
  
"Oh," he said, and pulled me a bit closer. His tail snaked around my thigh, drawing my leg up over his. "Means love." He murmured softly.  
  
I felt decidedly warmed by the comment. My eyelids were growing heavy, and I fought it. There was no earthly reason why I should be so tired. Belatedly, I realized that there was. Shapeshifting can be exhausting, and I remember distinctly that for those of us who could shapeshift, when the gift first came, it usually involved a lot of sleeping afterwards.  
  
I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to find my mother. It seemed my body had other ideas though. I found myself drifting into slumber.  
  
Before I lost awareness, I thought I heard Kurt say "Ich liebe dich." I had no problem understanding what he was trying to say. I felt the same way. 


	11. Chapter 11

I awoke to a someone tapping, and the sound of a low voice cursing in German. I was groggy, disoriented, and strangely not alarmed. Kurt moved, as if it to get out of the bed, and I tightened my arm around him. "Don't go," I said softly. For the first time in days I felt safe, warm, and comforted. I didn't want that taken away from me.  
  
The persistent knock sounded again, and I cursed whoever was out there knocking on the door. I was happy here Dammit, where I didn't have to think of anything. There was no family, no missing people, no mass murderers. There was just Kurt, me, and darkness, and that's all I wanted. Reluctantly I let him go, and kissed me gently on the forehead before going to answer the door.  
  
Logan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. For once, there wasn't a stogie gripped in his teeth. In faded blue jeans and a flannel shirt he looked like he'd just walked in from a week in the woods. He looked at Kurt for a moment, then snorted. "She still here, elf?"  
  
"Ja." Kurt said. "Watch your eyes Morgan." He warned me, and I pulled the blanket up over my head. I heard the click of a switch, and footsteps, then the door closed.  
  
"Did you two have a good sleep?" Logan asked. The statement could have been a loaded question, but I didn't get that impression. It sounded sincere enough, which surprised me.  
  
"As well as can be expected." Kurt said. I felt someone's weight settle on the band, and a three fingered hand rested on my leg. "Come, Morgan. Unwrap yourself."  
  
I sighed and disentangled myself from the blankets. Blearily, I scrubbed at my eyes and sat up, trying to rub the sleep from them. Kurt patted my knee, and Logan said "Morning."  
  
"Bah." I replied eloquently, and he chuckled. "Is that bitch conscious yet?" I asked. I wanted to question her about my mom as soon as possible.  
  
"I wouldn't have thought so, but yeah. She's awake. That's why I came up here. Thought you might like to ask her a few things." Logan said.  
  
I couldn't stop the wicked grin from spreading over my face. "Oh, there's a lot more I'd like to do other than question her." I entertained a brief fantasy of dipping her in boiling oil, or perhaps beating her to a bloody pulp with my bare hands. It seemed I preferred the latter, for my hands flexed almost unconsciously. "Fortunately, I'm a good person, and I'll just keep all that stuff away for my fantasies."  
  
Logan barked a short laugh. "Yeah well, the reality is never as good ya know." He sounded as if he spoke from experience. Briefly, I wondered how this man was in a real fight. I shuddered inwardly. I don't think I wanted to know. He didn't strike me as the type who had any hesitation over killing, what with those short swords springing from his hands. "So you wanna go down now?"  
  
I nodded. "Give me five minutes, and we can go straight down." I could want to question her all I wanted, but I wouldn't be able to focus on much with a full bladder. I excused myself to the restroom, and while I was there splashed some water on my face and ran a brush through my hair. Then we trooped out of Kurt's room.  
  
We walked to the sublevels of the school in silence, each wrapped in our own thoughts. Kurt slipped his hand into mine, and I gripped it gratefully. Just hours ago, I'd been bemoaning how chaotic my life had become, and now I was contemplating the horror of having never met Kurt. If we all made it through this, I made a mental to note to yell at him for bringing me so much grief, and then drag him off to the nearest private room and show him exactly why I was willing to put up with all of it.  
  
The cell Candy was being kept in was an eight foot by eight foot stainless steel cube. It had a small cot built into the wall, a tiny toilet and a sink. She was standing in the middle of this small room, eyes tightly shut, as if she were concentrating. Slowly, she reached a hand up to the silver collar that Logan had put on her, and when her fingers touched it, there was a bright spark and she snatched her hand back with a hiss. I could see that the fingertips of both hands were an angry red, as if she'd been shocked often, and I grinned with grim pleasure.  
  
Logan left Kurt and I in a small room with a table and four chairs. The table was a long one, and faced a wall that was mostly window. The chairs all lined one side of the table, as if this room was used for observation. I was too nervous to sit. I stood, chewing absently on a lock of hair while Logan left.  
  
He reappeared a few moments later, shoving Candy into the stark white room the window fed into, and slamming the door shut. The woman howled and threw herself at the door, pounding on it and cursing for Logan to let her out.  
  
Logan came into the room, and settled into one of the chairs. There was a button on the table, and he pushed it. "So, what's your name?" he asked.  
  
"Go to hell." Candy spat out. Her hand went for the collar again, and she got another shock for it.  
  
"That collar is repressing any sort of abilities that you have." Logan said idly. "You're just about as helpless as a regular human being right now."  
  
She glared at the glass. "Fuck you."  
  
"No thanks. I've sworn of whores." Logan said, unfazed. Candy shrieked and threw herself at the glass, bouncing harmlessly off of it and sprawling out on the floor. "Temper temper," Logan chuckled.  
  
"This is getting us nowhere." I muttered.  
  
"I agree." Kurt said. Still, he rested a hand on my knee comfortingly. "But this is all the recourse that we have."  
  
"Is that little boy blue I hear?" Candy said, and her voice became sing- songy. "Little boy blue let me blow horn," Kurt stiffened, his grip on my knee becoming more painful. "The brunette's in the bar, the blonde's making porn, Where is the blue boy looking for a girl who's cheap? He's under the redhead not making a peep. Will you fuck him? No not I, for if I do I'm sure to die!" She laughed, and it was an entirely naughty laugh, as if she were simply flirting with him. Either way, Kurt was gripping my knee so hard it hurt. "Poor Kurt, you weren't expecting that were you? Thought I was just a pretty little girl, didn't you?"  
  
Kurt shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. "No," he whispered harshly. I touched his shoulder, and felt he was as tightly wound as a spring, his muscles quivering.  
  
"Don't you remember Kurt? Oh, that bar was so crowded, sooo smoky. You'd tracked down that a lot of the people I've killed hung out in that bar, hadn't you? You were expecting a man. Someone big, someone burly. Ooooh but I wasn't expecting you. So juicy, so tempting, with so many perfectly useful gifts." She licked her lips.  
  
"Stop it." I said, and she gave a harsh laugh. "Logan, this isn't-"  
  
He reached out and hit the button. "Let her talk. She may spill something." He said.  
  
Kurt was shaking so hard I could hear his chair scraping across the floor. Abruptly, he stood, release my knee and knocking his chair back a few feet. "It was so easy. Bat my eyes, wiggle my hips, pretend to be interested, and you were oh so ready weren't you?" Candy cooed.  
  
"Halt die Schnauze! Ich möchte nicht dieses hören!" Kurt snarled. "Ja Sie!" Candy hissed, and I stared in surprise. I didn't know she spoke German. I could tell Logan wasn't happy with it either. He frowned, hands balling into fists. "Sie möchten sich erinnern. Sie sterben, um sich zu erinnern sind nicht Sie?" she continued.  
  
"Nien." Kurt said. He was crouched in the corner, tail lashing, eyes closed.  
  
"Sterbend, um sich an die Weise zu erinnern berührte ich Sie, die Weise küßte ich Sie."  
  
"Lies." Kurt hissed, his eyes narrowed to golden slits, and expression of rage slowly creeping over his face.  
  
Candy, meanwhile, had stepped nearer the glass. Her head was back, and she ran her hands down her body slowly, suggestively, over her breasts and down across the flat plain of her stomach to her thighs. She brought her face down, and there was an expression of lewd ecstasy. She licked her lips and said "Sterben, zum sich zu erinnern, an wie ich das Fleisch von Ihrer Rückseite zerriß und Sie zu Ihren Knien holte."  
  
Kurt growled, an animalistic rumble that started from his chest and ripped from his throat in a wordless scream of rage. Abruptly, he was gone from his spot and in the cell with Candy. I watched, horrified, as he picked her by her neck and threw her across the cell. She slammed into the wall, head bouncing off of it, and slumped to the ground.  
  
Logan was out of his chair a split second before I was. He didn't bother going through the door, he simply launched himself through the glass and into the small room. I clambered through the hole myself. Logan planted himself firmly between Candy and Kurt. "Elf, get a grip. You can't kill her." His tone very much implied a 'yet.'  
  
"Get out of my way Logan. Move, or I'll move you." Kurt said. His voice was calm, distant, as if he wasn't really all there.  
  
"No can do bub." Logan crossed his arms over his chest. "You'll have to move me, cause I ain't movin."  
  
Candy shifted on the bed, a low trickle of laughter escaping her lips. It didn't help things. Kurt ported around her again, and grabbed her by her hair. Logan spun around and in turn grabbed Kurt by his tail. I stepped in, and laid a single hand on Kurt's shoulder.  
  
"Kurt." I said softly, and tried to put everything I felt into that one word. There was a sudden silence in the room, heavy, thick, and I wondered if it had been just what I said that made it go quiet.  
  
Kurt's eyes flickered to me, and widened slightly. "Liebe," he said, "you're glowing."  
  
I looked down at my skin, and sure enough, there was that shimmer of rainbow glitter under my skin. Only I didn't feel hot, didn't feel pressured to change like I had the first time it had happened. "So I am." I said.  
  
"Freak." Candy muttered, and laughed. Kurt wrenched her head around roughly, and she yelped with pain.  
  
"Let her go, Kurt." I said. "Please. She's the only one who can tell me where my mother is." I laid a hand on his arm, and abruptly, he released her. He was still shaking, still looking so angry, so enraged. But I saw in his eyes that he was hurting, he was scared, and I understood that. Wordlessly, I took him into my arms, and held him. For a long moment, he simply stood there, not moving, hands hanging at his sides. Then, hesitantly, I felt his hands come around my waist, and he crushed me to him.  
  
A breeze stirred through the room, whisping my hair around my shoulders, stirring my clothes. It was a cool breeze, promising. It carried the scent of earth, and rain, and the new growth of spring. I held Kurt, his face buried in my chest, arms firmly wrapped around my waist, as his shoulders shook. I could feel the wetness of his tears soaking through my shirt, could feel the spasms of his body as it shook with silent sobs. The breeze picked up, growing a bit warmer. "Where the hell is that wind coming from?" Logan asked, puzzled.  
  
I turned to face him, and answered. "Me." I should have found that strange, but I didn't. I knew that the breeze was coming from me, just as I knew how to breathe. It was instinct. So natural, I couldn't understand why it hadn't been there before. Even more, my feet were no longer touching the ground, and I wasn't perturbed by this at all. It also seemed as natural as my heartbeat, as if I couldn't live my life any other way.  
  
Later, I'd wonder about this. Right now, I need Kurt calm, and I needed to find my mother. Those were the two most important things.  
  
I turned to Candy, and said "You will tell me where my mother is."  
  
"No." Candy said.  
  
"I know where she is," Kurt said, and his voice sounded dry, raspy. "Likely, she is being held, where I was tortured." He turned haunted eyes to me. "I remember."  
  
I felt a sudden feeling of elation mixed with bitter sorrow. I was happy that he remembered, for that meant we could save my mother, but said because he had enough bad memories in his life, and he didn't need more.  
  
The next few hours passed in a blur. Candy was safely locked back up in a cell, and Logan had gathered a team to go in and rescue my mom. They'd tried to insist that I stay, but I had threatened to stow away on the Blackbird if they didn't take me with them, and they'd relented.  
  
Now, the six of us were standing outside of an old, broken down warehouse on the outskirts of town. Kurt was there, and Logan. Storm too, with Rogue and Gambit. Scott had gone to DC to meet up with the Professor, and Jean was in charge of the mansion with us gone. They were all wearing dark clothing, it looked like leather, but I wasn't sure. I'd wrapped myself in shadows, an illusion so dark that I think everyone but Kurt wouldn't have been able to see me.  
  
My floating episode, as well as the breeze, was quite over. I was trying not to mull the situation over too much in my mind. It was a distraction I didn't need at the moment. What was important was that I concentrated on the mission at hand. While in the blackbird, they'd wired me up with a small ear piece and a mic. I was the decoy, the scout. Oh they hadn't wanted to do it, to be sure. It'd led to a screaming fight between Kurt and I-our very first- but they'd conceded that I was the best person for the job, simply for my ability to look the part.  
  
"Are you ready?" Kurt asked, and I nodded. "Be careful Morgan, please." He brushed a finger down my cheek.  
  
I took a deep breath, and cast the detestable illusion. Now instead of me, I looked like Candy. Hopefully, I'd be able to pull of being her long enough to find my mom, and to find out where the guards were. The two men that had dumped Kurt were, for lack of a better term, Candy's slaves. They bowed to her every whim, Kurt had said.  
  
I squared my shoulders, and headed toward the warehouse with a confident step. The door was unlocked, so I went right in. I took a moment to get my bearings, scanning the hall I'd just stepped into. It was short, and had two doors, one on the right and one on the left, then ended. "Two doors," I whispered, and hoped they heard me. "One on the right, and one on the left."  
  
"Go right," Kurt's voice came to me. I took the right door. It was another hallway, with a door at the far end. I went down the hallway to the second door, and opened it. This was a large room, with a few overturned desks, and scattered pieces of furniture laying about. Why was it that abandon buildings always had to have furniture left in them? I skirted most of the debris on the floor, to the door that was across the hall.  
  
I opened the door and stepped through into what could only be the main storage area. The ceiling was high, about fifty feet, and I'd say that it was about 150 feet in either direction. There were large pillars at regular intervals, and an odd assortment of junk scattered about. Two junked cars, a junked van, shopping carts, papers, and broken furniture as well as an odd assortment of other things now filled the space. There was a light, pretty much dead center, and a few upright desks there. A TV was blaring, and the large man I remember from the very night this all began was watching it. He had short, black hair, and was wearing a muscle shirt and blue jeans. There was a scar that went across his face, over his left eye, across his nose and vanishing on the right side of his jaw. Nearby, in a threadbare armchair, was the smaller man. He was curled up, reading a book whose title I couldn't read.  
  
Between the two of them, was my mother. She lay limply between the two, not tied, not gagged, just laid there in a little ball. Her clothes were in shreds, hanging off of her body, some of them were tinged brown with old blood. It took sheer force of will to keep me from running to her.  
  
I didn't want to talk to the men. I didn't want to have anything to do with them. I slipped back through the door, my heart pounding, my breath coming in short gasps. I leaned against the wall heavily and tried to calm myself down.  
  
"Morgan? Liebe? What's wrong?" Kurt's voice came to me urgently.  
  
"They're here. She's here. Oh God, Kurt.. I think she might be dead!" I clapped a hand over my mouth, trying to choke back a panicked sob.  
  
"We are on our way." Kurt said.  
  
The few short minutes it took them to get into the warehouse felt like agonizingly long years. I tucked myself into a corner, ridding myself of the slimy illusion. Kurt found me there, and squatted down in front of me, resting his hands on my knees. "Morgan, do you want to wait outside?" he asked.  
  
I shook my head. "No. Mom won't know you. If she's alive-"  
  
"She's alive." Logan said, and tapped the side of his nose. "I c'n smell it. She's afraid, and she's in a lot of pain, but she's alive." A dark look crossed his face, and he snarled. "Let's get in there."  
  
I heard a sharp cry of pain, and it brought me to my feet. They were doing something, they were hurting my mom! I hadn't even realized I'd started running for the door until I found myself flat on my back. Kurt had me pinned, a hand clamped firmly over my mouth. I stared up at him in surprise. "No. Stay here. We will handle it from this point on."  
  
I acquiesced mainly because I had no other choice. I nodded, and watched as they all slipped through the doorway. I crawled across the floor to the door, and looked through it.  
  
The two men were wrestling with my mother, the smaller one pinning her arms firmly, and the larger one pressing his bulk down on her, pinning her to the floor. He was a solid weight between her legs, and I realized at once what they were, I feared, trying to do.  
  
"I don't think the lady's interested in what you've got to offer, pal." Logan said darkly. He stepped from the shadows, and into the small pool of golden light that surrounded the desks.  
  
The tall man came to his feet, and I breathed a sigh of relief to see that his pants were still fastened. "Who the hell are you?" The man demanded.  
  
"Name's Wolverine." Logan said. "And that there is a friend's mom. It'd be a good idea if you both just got up and walked away. Else, someone might get hurt."  
  
The large man rolled his shoulders fluidly. "Eat shit." He responded. Then, he opened his mouth up wide. I watched in grotesque fascination as a stream of something thick, black, and buzzing spilled forth from his mouth. The cloud enveloped Logan quickly, he disappeared under it's thick mass. I realized that it wasn't some form of goo, but insects. Dark, shiny insects that I assumed were busy stinging and biting Logan for all they were worth.  
  
A rock bounced off of the small guys head, and he looked around. "Up here, Sugar." Rogue said. She was idly tossing a large brick in her hand. From her floating position a good ten feet in the air, she would prove a hard target to hit. She winged the brick at his head, and it blurred toward him.  
  
It encountered empty space, as the small man seemed to split his head into two pieces and allowed the brick to pass right through. Then, he melted into a puddle of goo and vanished through a crack in the floor.  
  
Not good.  
  
Kurt was facing off with the larger man now. "Remember me?" he asked softly.  
  
The large man smiled, and it wasn't pretty. "How could I forget? Your screaming was like music. Are you ready to sing for me again, German?"  
  
Kurt reached behind him, and drew two slim swords. I hadn't noticed them earlier, probably because I was so wrapped up in getting where we were. He smiled grimly. "Nein, I am not ready to sing. But I am ready to dance. Let's dance." Kurt said.  
  
I watched, and prayed that we'd win.  
  
Translations::  
  
"Halt die Schnauze! Ich möchte nicht dieses hören!" = Shut up! I don't want to hear this! "Ja Sie!" = You do! "Sie möchten sich erinnern. Sie sterben, um sich zu erinnern sind nicht Sie?" = You want to remember. You're dying to remember aren't you? "Sterbend, um sich an die Weise zu erinnern berührte ich Sie, die Weise küßte ich Sie." = Dying to remember the way I touched you, the way I kissed you "Sterben, zum sich zu erinnern, an wie ich das Fleisch von Ihrer Rückseite zerriß und Sie zu Ihren Knien holte." = Dying to remember how I ripped the flesh from your back and brought you to your knees. 


	12. Chapter 12

Authors Note:::: Sorry it's taken me so long to update, but I was REALLY having problems with this chapter. No matter what I did, I simply was not happy with it, and I've finally decided to stop fiddling with it and just post the darn thing. There were a few things that I felt were too short, and a few things that felt like cheating, but they had to happen this way for the story to progress, so... anyhow I'm sure you'll all be able to figure out what I mean.  
  
Oh, and a word to the wise, if you object to content of an.. ah.. adult nature... you may want to skip a few paragraphs. I tried to keep it as PG 13 as possible, but you never know what some people consider to be appropriate...  
  
And as always... I don't own Kurt, Or Logan, or pretty much any of the x-men. I'll lay claim to Clan Flannigan though :D  
  
-Gialia  
  
I tore my eyes away from Kurt, long enough to see Gambit retrieving my mother. He scooped her up into his arms like she weighed nothing, and made a bee-line for the door. Rogue flew over to help Logan out from the stinging swarm of insects that had engulfed him. Storm too was trying to help. I felt a stiff breeze whip up from nowhere, and the swarm flew off of Logan a few feet away. They lingered for a moment, before they each began to disappear in a small poof of flame.  
  
I turned my attention back to Gambit, scrambling to my feet and trying to get the door open. I had just gotten my footing under me when I felt something solid hit me square in the back, and I went sliding through the doorway across the floor. My chest was tight, my skin burned from the friction against the floor. I couldn't breath, and stunned, lay gasping for air on the floor.  
  
"Raoul!" I heard the larger man bellow, and looked up to see that Kurt had backed him into a corner. He was bleeding from a few cuts, and as I watched, Kurt rolled in under a high swing, and with one slim sword slashed a neat cut across the man's stomach before having to slide out of the way of a kick.  
  
"Here, Taylor." The slim man called from behind me. I rolled on my back, still breathless, to see the smaller man. Raoul..I named him. He'd gotten a gun from somewhere, and it was pointed directly at me. I watched as his hand swung to Kurt, and he pulled the trigger.  
  
The sound of the gunshot ricocheted off the walls, amplifying the sound to near deafening proportions. I screamed, and rolled onto my hands in knees just in time to see Kurt crumple bonelessly to the floor. Logan gave a wordless yell of rage, and launched himself at Raoul. I watched the little man fire into Logan four times before he took Raoul down.  
  
Raoul pulled the goo trick again, his form going liquid, encasing Logan completely. "Get my mother out of here!" I yelled at Gambit, who had not yet managed to exit the building. He gave a sharp nod and yelled for Rogue. The brunette picked them both up easily, and flew out of a large broken window near the ceiling.  
  
I scrambled across the floor to Kurt, who was now at the mercy of Taylor. The man had rolled him over, and was prodding at him with his toes. Kurt lay motionless, I couldn't even see the rise and fall of his chest. His tail, which had seemed ever in motion, was still.  
  
A growl trickled from my lips, and the change overtook me. It was much faster this time, the pain fleeting, but intense. I had just opened my mouth to scream when it was gone, like a memory. I much preferred that to the bone cracking of yesterday. I bristled, and the growl became a full fledge howl as I lifted my muzzle and called out my fury.  
  
That got his attention. I charged at him, leaping over Kurt's prone body. But he caught me easily, and tossed me, impossibly far. I landed with a yelp thirty feet away from where I started. I managed not to break anything this time, and rose, giving myself a firm shake.  
  
I saw a bright flash of light, then a piercing whine. Everyone seemed to be moving under a shroud of silence. I turned, and saw that Raoul had come to a pooled halt under Logan's feet. In the blink of an eye, his mass solidified again, and he lay prone at Logan's feet.  
  
My head swiveled back to Taylor. That one was stalking towards Storm with murder in his eyes. He never made it that far. The woman summoned another lightening bolt, equally as deafening as the first, blinding me momentarily. When the light cleared, he too was laying on the floor, unmoving.  
  
I concentrated, and became human once more, cloaking myself in illusion so that no one would see my near nudity. I ran to Kurt, searching him for where the bullet hit. There was a frighteningly large pool of blood spreading beneath him, and I feared the absolute worst.  
  
The bullet hole was two inches below his ribcage, and about one and half to two inches from his left side. It had passed straight through him, and was pouring blood. I spied a few scraps of clothing nearby, and grabbed them, pressing them against his wounds, trying to stem the flow of blood. Kurt hissed, and his hand went to mine, eyes fluttering open. "Vas?" he sounded unfocused.  
  
"You've been shot." I said, and was surprised at how calm my voice sounded. "You've lost a lot of blood. Try not to move around so much." I said. I felt a shadow pass over me, and saw Rogue had come back. "Can you take him to the blackbird? We need to get him home, fast."  
  
"Does a duck quack? Step aside sugar, I'll take care of him." I fretted as she scooped him up easily and flew out the window with him.  
  
I ran back to the plane. One thing I will never, ever recommend, and that's running naked. It's not comfortable, to say the very least.  
  
My mother was strapped to a gurney, unconscious, an IV dripping clear fluid into her arm. Her face was a swollen mass of bruises, and I swore that if I'd been a lesser woman, I'd have killed the bastards for doing this to her. Instead, I took a very large, deep breath, and asked Rogue where I could find some clothes.  
  
To my surprise, she produced a gray sweat suit from a cabinet, and I slipped into it. Only then did I allow myself to check on Kurt.  
  
Rogue had strapped him into a gurney as well, and he had another IV, with clear fluid dripping into his arm. He had lost consciousness again. There was a neat square bandage covering his wound, and already there was a red spot blooming on the gauze. I hoped he wouldn't bleed himself out before we got back to the mansion.  
  
The others boarded the plane, Gambit carrying Taylor over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. They dumped him into a far corner of the blackbird, and Logan dropped Raoul on top of him. I hoped they'd both stay out of it until we got to the mansion. I shouldn't have worried about it. Storm retrieved two syringes from another cabinet, and injected first Raoul and then Taylor. At my quizzical look, she explained "It's a sedative. Normally we use it for the wounded, but in this case, it works to keep them subdued."  
  
The ride back to the mansion was hellish. Between Kurt and mom I felt I was going to worry myself into eeny weeny pieces. I hovered between the two of them like a bee in a rose garden, and couldn't decide which flower smelled the best. I couldn't wait to get off the plane and get them both healed.  
  
Ryan met us in the hanger, and laid hands upon my Mother before we'd even gotten her out of the gurney. In short order, her bruises faded, and her breathing eased. The expression on her face was still one of twisted pain, and I had no doubt that it was nightmares causing her grief now.  
  
Kurt took even less time than my mother. Ryan patched him up and declare that neither of them were to be disturbed for at least twenty four hours. It was a rule I was happy to obey.  
  
Theresa and the twins near fell over themselves trying to get to mom first. All of them were crying, holding her hand, whispering to her as we took her up to the guest suite in the mansion we thought she'd been occupying before. Gently she was tucked into bed, and my siblings crawled in with her, spooning against her, still whispering softly. I saw the odd looks that they were getting, and shook my head.  
  
Physical contact, at least in my family, had always been a big part of the healing process. The closer we were, the better we felt, and when we were kids it wasn't unusual for my parents king size bed to hold more children than grownups. I began to crawl onto the foot of the bed, to add my own presence to the mix.  
  
"No," Theresa said, "no, you go with Kurt."  
  
I shook my head. I wanted to go with Kurt, but I needed to be with mom. "Seriously, Morgan just go. Mom will be fine here with us. She's safe, that's all that matters."  
  
I sighed, and nodded. "I suppose your right." I said. On the way to Kurt's room, I found a phone and called dad. He was so relieved he started crying over the phone. I gave him the address for the mansion, and I knew that there'd be a Flannigan invasion before the night was over.  
  
I wasn't the least bit tired when I made it to Kurt's room. Once more, I found myself holding vigil over his bed. If he kept getting hurt like this, I promised myself I'd kill him the next time he did it. It wasn't fair, making me go through this repeatedly. I suspected it was all a part of his job, which of course made it even harder for me to think about it rationally.  
  
Still, he looked so peaceful, sleeping there. So handsome, so simply Kurt, that the sight of it tugged at my heart gently. I slipped into the bed with him, wrapping my arms around him and drawing him close to me. I knew, that no matter what the future held for the both of us, it was moments like these, when I could simply hold him, that made the difference. I kissed the top of his head, smoothed his hair, and between the heat of his body, and the tension slowly leaking from me, I fell asleep.  
  
I was awakened by his arms sliding around me, and the feel of his lips brushing against my neck. His tail had wrapped itself high around my thigh, I could feel the spaded tip gently grazing against my inner thigh. It was an extremely pleasant way to wake up, and I sighed from it. "Kurt.."  
  
"Shh, liebe," he said, his voice a throaty whisper. "Do not speak." His mouth traveled up my neck, across the length of my jaw. Softly, his lips caressed mine, arms tightening around me. I returned the gentle kiss, tangling my fingers in the soft curls of his hair, holding his face to mine. I brushed his lips gently with my tongue, and he parted them for me. We kissed deeply, urgently, as if it were necessary to stay alive. It was wet, hot, passionate, and set a fire burning inside of me.  
  
I rolled him over, his tail snaking from off my leg as I straddled his hips easily. His arms were still around my waist, and we still kissed. I felt his hand shift from my waist, to my shoulders, running down along my arms to my hands before going back to my waist. Slowly, the slipped underneath the fabric and brushed along the skin of my stomach, and my back.  
  
I continued to kiss him, sighing from his touch. I let him take the hem of my shirt into his hands, and slide it slowly up, the motion bringing a slight noise from me. I let him slide the garment off of me, peel it off my arms, until I was as bare from the waist up as he.  
  
I pressed my body against his, reveling in the feeling of his fur as it rubbed against the more sensitive parts of my flesh. His tail danced down the length of my spine, making me arch my back, heaving my breasts off of his chest. With a growl, he wrapped an arm around my waist and rolled us over.  
  
Then, all I became aware of was the sensation of lips, and teeth, hands, and tail. Deftly, he drew moans and breathless cries from me, teasing my flesh, coaxing the reactions, treasuring them, exploring each curve of my body. He delighted when he found a particularly sensitive spot, white teeth flashing in the darkness of his face. The sight of his skin against mine was terribly erotic, and I received as much pleasure from watching him manipulate me, as I did from the actual manipulation.  
  
I didn't protest when he slid the sweatpants off of me and tossed them to the side. He teased me more, exploring the new expanse of flesh now visible to him. I was not surprised when he brought me using first his hands, then mouth, then surprisingly, tail. I was shuddering, each limb shaking from the pleasure, my heart pounding in my chest.  
  
When he finally, achingly joined his body with mine, I lost myself completely. I became a wanton thing, hands roaming his body, breath coming in short gasps. I took him into me, and it felt as if our bodies were melting, becoming one glorious whole, spiraling higher and higher until we exploded into a glory of heat, a spray of blazing stars burning themselves into infinity.  
  
We lay together, tangled in each others arms as our bodies buzzed and settled, still glowing from the effects of our lovemaking. He was shaking gently, and I was sure I was too. I loved him, he loved me, and there was nothing in the world more right than that. It was bliss, rapture, and I wanted it to last forever.  
  
"I love you," Kurt whispered into my hair hesitantly.  
  
"I love you too." I answered him without hesitation, cuddling closer to him, enjoying the brush of fur against skin. It had definitely added something to the experience, and I cherished the way it felt.  
  
"Erstaunlich." He said, and I chuckled. I was definitely going to have to learn German.  
  
A knocked sounded at the door, and we sighed in unison. "I should see who that is." Kurt said reluctantly.  
  
"Tell them to go away." I said softly. This was too nice a moment to let go.  
  
"Morgan? Are you in there?" My dad's voice sounded through the doorway, and I cursed. As quickly as I could I disentangled myself from Kurt and dove for the discarded sweats, pulling them on. Kurt fumbled for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.  
  
"Just a second!" I yelled, tugging the shirt on over my head.  
  
The doorknob turned, and it cracked open. "Honey?"  
  
I dashed to the door and threw it open, shoving dad out into the hallway and joining him there. He looked confused for a minute, and then realization dawned on him. "Don't bother hiding it." He said, an edge to his voice. "I can smell it."  
  
"Damn you and your bloodhound nose." I said. Then, I asked "how's mom?"  
  
"Fine. She's awake."  
  
"How long have you been here?" I heard a loud thump, and Kurt cursing in German. I bit back a laugh, wondering what he'd tripped over.  
  
"An hour or so." He said. "I've been wandering for about fifteen minutes, trying to find you." The door swung open, and Kurt joined us in the hallway. "She's asking for you. Though, maybe you should think about taking a shower first." His nose wrinkled. "Both of you."  
  
"Right, okay." I said. "give me fifteen minutes."  
  
"you got it sweetie. That gives me plenty of time to have a conversation with Kurt here." I didn't like the sound of that, but I couldn't very well argue either. I nodded, and left a very nervous Kurt in my fathers hands.  
  
I showered and changed as quickly as I could. When I came out into the hall, Kurt and my father were still there, and fell suddenly silent at my appearance. "Hello boys." I said. I kissed my father on the cheek, and then kissed Kurt as well. "Go, shower. I'm going to check on my mom."  
  
"Ja. I will be down in a bit." Kurt said. He squeezed my hand, gave my father a look I couldn't interpret, and went into the bedroom.  
  
My father and I walked in silence for a moment before I said "So what did you tell him?"  
  
"I told him if he hurt my little girl, I'd hurt him." He said. "Then, I thanked him for saving you, and my wife, and that if there was ever anything he needed, I'd help him."  
  
"Hmm." I said. We didn't speak until we reached my mother's room. I opened the door, and was not surprised to see the whole of my family had practically moved in. Flannigans were everywhere, all of them laughing, happy, completely at ease.  
  
My mom was actually alone in the bed, and her expression brightened considerably when she saw me. "Morgan!" She held her arms out to me, and joy suffused me.  
  
My feet left the ground, and light shimmered in the room. I was glowing again, but I didn't care. I flew across the room, literally, and into my mother's arms. My siblings had fallen into shocked silence, but my mom, my mother, seemed completely unfazed. She simply enfolded me in her arms, and held me tight. "Oh Morgan, my Morrrigan, my child. Thank you!"  
  
We cried together, weeping tears of joy, and I felt the bed shift as someone else joined us. In short order, we found ourselves smothered in a press of bodies as my siblings dog piled into the bed, each one hugging and laughing. It was overwhelming, and comforting, and familiar. I'd missed it so much, that I didn't even yell when I felt a heel dig into my calf.  
  
We were a family again. No matter what happened, I knew nothing would ever change that. 


	13. Chapter 13

"Enough already!" Mom said, laughing. We all piled off, and I scooted to the edge of the bed, holding her hand. "You kids, I swear." She smiled.  
  
"Well, can you blame us?" Braden said. "I mean, wouldn't you expect the same reaction from yourself if it had been one of us."  
  
"Well of course." She said. "Thank you kids, all of you."  
  
There were murmurs around the room. I turned my eyes to the doorway, and Kurt was still standing there uncertainly. I beckoned him into the room, and he came shyly in. "Mom, I'd like you to meet one of your rescuers. This is Kurt. Kurt, this is my mother."  
  
For a moment, she regarded him silently. Then, she said "Thank you Kurt. I can not begin to repay the debt you've given me."  
  
Kurt waved his hand, tail curling slightly. "Nein, no thanks are needed. You were in trouble. I could not let anyone else stay in the kind of situation I myself had faced."  
  
She sombered. "So, you were guests of them as well?"  
  
"Ja. Though I have not yet discerned the reason why." Kurt said honestly.  
  
"Well, I believe I might be able to shed some light on that." Mom said. "They were pretty free with their conversation around me."  
  
"Perhaps it would be best if we fetched the Professor for this." Kurt suggested.  
  
"That would probably be best, Kurt. Thank you." Mom said.  
  
Kurt glanced at me, then nodded and left. "Alright you lot, everyone out." My mom commanded, and there was a chorus of groans. "No arguments! I want to get this told to the right people, and go home. With you lot milling around it'll take more time to go through everything. I don't begrudge Professor Xavier his hospitality, but he doesn't need to be feeding an army of Irishmen, now does he?"  
  
It took a moment or two, but we all began filing out. "Morgan honey, can you stay? You're part of this too, and I want to talk to you about something."  
  
I waited for the rest of my family to leave, and went back to my mother. "Kurt seems very nice." She said.  
  
Oh, I should have known that's what she wanted.  
  
"He is." I said evasively. I wasn't quite ready to discuss him with her yet. I should have known she'd press the subject.  
  
"I understand that you two have been pretty much attached at the hip since the day you found him." She said, and I nodded. "I also have it on good authority that you two have slept together."  
  
I couldn't stop the blush from rising into my cheeks. My mom laughed. "Oh don't worry, I'm not going to preach at you about the virtue of abstinence. Of course, I'd rather you had saved yourself for marriage, but it's your life and your soul and you can do what you want with it. I just wanted to know one simple thing."  
  
"What's that?" I asked warily.  
  
"Do you love him?" She asked me.  
  
I hesitated. It was that hesitation that made me answer "I think so."  
  
She raised an eyebrow at me. "You think so?"  
  
I nodded. "I'd like to say yes. It feels right. I care for him very very much, I like him certainly. I believe I do, but I'd be lying if I said a part of me didn't have a few doubts."  
  
"And how does he feel about you?" She asked.  
  
"He said he loved me." I responded. "But he may feel the same as me. I don't know, I'm not in his head."  
  
She looked at me, and then said "Can you take some advice from your mother in this situation?"  
  
I shrugged. "Sure."  
  
"Slow down. Take some time to get to know each other better, before you both do something that you regret." She said.  
  
It was good advice, and I knew it. Advice that I would definitely consider taking. "Yes mother." I said, and smiled. "Oh, well one thing that should put you at ease about Kurt. He's Catholic."  
  
"Oh is he now? Well in that case, you have my blessing to have all the little powder blue children you desire!" Mom grinned broadly, and then laughed.  
  
A knock sounded at the door. "Come in!" We both said in unison.  
  
Kurt came in, pushing Xavier's chair before him. "Mrs. Flannigan, I am pleased to see you doing so well." Xavier said.  
  
"Oh, bother, call me Margaret." Mom said.  
  
"Only if you will do me the honor of calling me Charles." Xavier smiled at her.  
  
"Of course, Charles." Mom said. "I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me and my family."  
  
"It's our pleasure, Margaret, to be able to help your family in it's time of need." Charles said.  
  
I sighed. "This is all well and good, but can we please get down to business? Mom?" I felt rude for asking, but I was dying to know what all this had been about.  
  
"Right." Mom said. "Well, here's what I managed to overhear. I was her prisoner for quite a few days you know, and there was a lot to hear. The girl, Candy, she's a mutant. Her Gift, such as it is, is stealing another mutants powers."  
  
Charles nodded. "We have someone here who has a remarkably similar gift. Rogue's functions through touch."  
  
"Candy is different." Mom said. "She can temporarily steal a mutant's powers, by creating situations of emotional stress. The higher the stress, the longer she keeps their gift. Pain and fear, she says, makes it even more powerful, amplifies it slightly. Death, she says, makes it permanent. From what her brothers have said, it is almost like an addiction for her. It was something she discovered by accident, but then she began to kill more and more frequently. The time span between murders became less and less, and over time she grew more powerful. Her brothers enjoyed getting involved in the torture almost as much as Candy herself. For her, it was intensely euphoric, and it frequently degraded into rather disgusting acts of perversion." "yes, but why did the time frame decrease at such a regular interval?" I asked. "That makes it seem almost ritualistic."  
  
"In a way, it was." My mother said. "Candy is a very sick little girl. Not only was she killing people to gain power, they were also a sacrifice. She was a demon worshipper." Mom shuddered. "I have no idea if she was successful at it or not, but from listening to her brothers talk, she very well may have been. I think there's a lot more to that Warehouse than you guys saw. I'd recommend going back there and taking a priest with you."  
  
I shook my head. "Mom, you know I don't believe in that stuff-"  
  
"Just because you don't believe, Liebe, doesn't mean it does not exist." Kurt admonished. "Trust me, there is more evil in this world than what exists here."  
  
I remained silent, but I still disagreed. I didn't believe in demons, and that was that. The only way to get me to believe otherwise was to show me it was possible.  
  
"Her brothers were fairly concerned that her timetable had gotten off track. Apparently, she had been working up to summoning her particular god to the corporeal plane. I think, perhaps, that's why she chose you Kurt." Mom said. "You're appearance. And your gifts. I'm sure both of which were very attractive to her in her quest for power. She was very upset that you'd had to be dumped, and she wasn't able to finish her ritual."  
  
Kurt frowned. "I remember the warehouse. When I met her in the club, she charmed me and took me there. That's where the torture began. They beat me quite a bit, but she didn't start cutting me until she'd gotten me into the alleyway. There was something significant about that particular location, but I don't remember what it was."  
  
Mom nodded. "I remember that too. She said something about 'hoping the blood would be enough.'"  
  
"Well," Xavier said, "we certainly have our answers now. That explains a great deal. It raises more questions of course, such as what would have happened had she been able to continue her rites."  
  
"Or what might happen if she doesn't finish them." Kurt said. "We need to find out exactly what she was into, Charles. It could be very bad."  
  
"I agree." Charles said. "Thank you, Margaret, for shedding some much needed light on this situation. I think we will leave you to your rest now."  
  
"Thank you, but I think I'd rather just go home." Mom said. "If it's not too much trouble."  
  
"No trouble at all." Charles said. "I'll have Scott ready the Blackbird to fly you, and some of your family, home."  
  
"Thank you very much."  
  
Kurt and Charles left, leaving me alone with my mother. "I'll come home with you, Mom." I said.  
  
"You don't have too-"she began, and I shook my head.  
  
"No. I want to. There is a ton of stuff I need to take care of anyway, and," I paused,  
  
"You've got some thinking to do." She finished for me.  
  
That seemed to me to be an understatement. I had a hell of a lot to think about. So much had happened in such a short span of time, that a good chunk of it was beginning to seem a little unreal.  
  
"You should go say goodbye to him." Mom said. "Before you both get too busy otherwise."  
  
I nodded, mumbling that I'd meet her at the Blackbird, and went in search of Kurt.  
  
I found him in his room. He smiled at me, and hugged me, kissing me lightly on my forehead. "Hello, Liebe." He said softly.  
  
"Kurt," I said, and my chest felt a bit tight, "I'm going home with Mom."  
  
"Oh?" He said. "Das ist gut. You should spend time with her."  
  
I disentangled myself from him, and began to repack my suitcase. "Yes. And there's something things I need to take care of. To think about."  
  
There was a sudden stillness in the room, and I turned to look at him. He was regarding me seriously. "You mean us?"  
  
There was no sense in lying to him. "Yes." I said. "Kurt-"  
  
"Nein, don't say anything." He said. "You don't have too. I think I understand why." His tail curled around his leg absently. "You feel like we have moved fast? And you wonder, if what you feel is really love, or if it is just, ah, infatuation. A crush." He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed explosively. "I must confess, I've been wondering that myself. I find you to be," he grinned, "rather attractive, there's a definite physical attraction. Among other things," his eyes traveled up and down my body in a rather provocative way, and I blushed. "But, I do wonder how much I feel maybe be misplaced gratitude, or, perhaps a sense of dependency." He nodded. "Yes, I think it's a very good idea that we spend some time apart, and try to discover if what we feel is really what we feel, or if it's not something else entirely."  
  
I felt my shoulders relax, and breathed a sigh of relief. "I wasn't sure you'd understand."  
  
"Oh," he said, and took a step toward me, "I understand. But, if you think you're leaving, without giving me a chance to say goodbye," his tail snaked around him, and snagged my arm as he stalked closer and closer. His expression was intense, sultry, just the look from him made my toes curl up into my shoes, "then you are sadly mistaken."  
  
I must say, it was the most memorable goodbye I've ever experienced.  
  
And so ends, "Another Man's Trash." I bring this to a close, with much gratitude for those who loved it, and the few who didn't. I hope this answers some questions for you, and raises a great deal more.  
  
But fear not. I am far from done with Morgan and Kurt. This tale was originally intended to be just a short little fic, but it has blossomed into so much more! And raised a whole lot of questions I'm sure.  
  
What will Kurt and the others find in the old warehouse? What's to become of Candy and her brothers now that they've been captured?  
  
What's the deal with Morgan's new powers? Do her new powers signify something major? Are they a big deal? Or is it just a flashy light show? How does she really feel about Kurt? And how does Kurt feel about her? Why does Patrick always wear that blasted trench coat!  
  
See the answers to all these questions and more in the next exciting installment of "The Adventures of Morgan Flannigan!"  
  
-Gialia 


End file.
